True Blood UK
by Vixen-Von-Rouge
Summary: There are plenty of vampires in the US but what about the vampires of the UK? Hannah has been abandoned by her Maker and the only people willing to help her is Samantha, a werewolf, and her family. All kinds of trouble occurs as two should-be rivals come together to fight a powerful foe.
1. Chapter 1

At night, in the summer, the woodland of Chelmsford is beautiful; no wind blows through the trees except the occasional warm breeze that rustles the leaves slightly, crickets hide in small patches of nettles and rub their legs together to make a chorus of chirps, and small mammals come out to forage for food as the moon shines brightly overhead.

The only thing disturbing the relative silence is the sound of awkward footsteps meandering between the gaps in the trees and quiet whimpers every now and again as a young girl makes her way through the woods. She isn't following any trails. She isn't following a certain direction. She just wants to get out.

Her entire body, including her hair and clothes, are covered in soil and dirt. The yellow, summer dress she is wearing is torn at the bottom with one of the straps uselessly dangling down and her shoes are non-existent, so she stumbles bare foot over tree roots and uneven ground.

After a few minutes the girl comes to a clearing. The moon illuminates patches of flowers in the grass and part of a fallen tree on the ground. A feeling of familiarity passes through her as she walks into the open space and looks around.

"I've been here before," she whispers to herself before realisation hits her, "I'm just going in circles!"

She sits herself on the toppled tree trunk; her eyes well up with tears that fall down her dirty cheeks. Resting her elbows on her lap, she bows her head, gripping onto the mess of red hair on her head and shuddering as she is overcome by waves of uncontrollable sobbing.

Meanwhile, a short distance from the clearing, a lone creature is moving noiselessly through the woods. She keeps her nose low to the ground, taking in all the scents around her; the soft dry earth beneath her paws, the fragrant flowers dotted around that had popped up during the spring, the bark of the trees, the lingering smell of small animals that have scattered away from her presence and mostly importantly, wild mushrooms. They were the reason she was here, because there is no mushroom that is quite as good as one that has been picked from a natural, untainted environment.

Upon discovering a small group of different sized mushrooms, the creature transforms into the naked figure of a woman with long dark brown hair. She gathers them up in her hands and sighs contently.

Suddenly a sound echoes through the trees. It is a sound that doesn't belong to the woodland.

"What the hell?" the woman says to herself, following the direction of the noise, still holding onto the wild mushrooms.

As she gets closer to the origin of the sound, it becomes clearer and more distinct. It's the sound of someone crying. The woman recognises the area she is heading towards as the place where she had left her clothes and wonders to herself who could possibly be out in the middle of the woods at this time of night.

Reaching the edge of the clearing, the woman stops. A girl is sitting upon the fallen tree trunk in which the woman has hidden her clothes. She is unable to see her face due to it being hidden behind a curtain of hair but it is extremely obvious that this is where the crying is coming from. A strange smell wafts to the woman's nose as she takes a step forward. A twig snaps under her foot causing the girl to gasp and lift her head. What the woman sees shocks her for a moment, but quickly regaining her senses she drops the mushrooms and once again becomes the creature she was before.

The girl jumps up, wiping her eyes in disbelief at what she is seeing. But as she takes her hand away from her face something else catches her attention; blood. Dark crimson blood stains her fingers.

"What… What is this?" she breathes, looking up at the creature in front of her and then back down at her hand, "How can there be a wolf here? There aren't any wild wolves in England! And where is this blood coming from?! This can't be real! This can't be real!"

The wolf moves forward, baring its white teeth and snarling at her. The girl's breathing becomes more erratic as she hyperventilates. Taking a step back she trips over the fallen tree and lands on the floor. Before she can register what has happened, the wolf is standing over her, growling, lips pulled back to reveal large glistening canines and eyes shining an intense yellow-gold.

The girl curls into the foetal position and starts sobbing again.

"Please, don't hurt me!" she wails, burying her face in her arms.

The wolf growls again, but this time it becomes a more human sound and is followed by loud panting. Pulling her arms away from her face slightly, the girl looks up; no longer seeing a wolf but a woman, crouching over her, completely naked and glaring down at her with the same eyes as the wolf had.

Gasping, she sits up and moves away, slapping her hands over her mouth and breathing heavily through her nose. The woman watches her intensely.

"You're in my territory, fanger. Give me one good reason not to kill you." the woman sneers.

"Fanger? What are you talking about?" the girl whimpers, moving her hands away from her mouth.

"Who sent you? Are you one of Elizabeth's little spies? Checking for weak points in our neck of the woods?"

"I don't know who you're talking about! Please, let me go."

"Now, why would I do that? So you can run back to your nest and report to your maker?"

"You've got me mixed up with someone else! I'm not a spy for anyone I was just looking for a way to get home! I've been walking in circles all night; just point me in the direction of Writtle and I'll leave you alone! I need to get to a hospital so I can find out where this blood is coming from!"

Upon hearing the girl's last comment the woman's facial expression changes; her upper lip that was raised on one side in contempt relaxes slightly which in turn smooth out the wrinkling of her nose and brow, her aggression subsiding but keeping her gaze locked on the girl, still alert and on guard.

"Are you an idiot? Did you drink some druggie blood or something?" she scoffs.

"Wh-Why would I drink someone's blood?" the girl exclaims, "Oh God, this is the worst night of my life! First I have an argument with my parents then I completely black out and find that some nutcase has tried to bury me alive, I wander around the woods for hours on end, a wolf that turns into a naked woman attacks me for no reason and now this! Accused of being a vampire! What next? Being abducted by aliens?"

The woman looks at the girl with a completely baffled expression. She'd never been faced with a situation like this before. By this point, the golden glow of her eyes has faded back to their natural deep, chocolate brown. She stands up straight, looking thoughtful for a moment.

"I can't believe this. I can't FUCKING believe this!" she growls as realisation hits her, "So the vampires truly have been in our territory; I knew some of them overstepped the boundaries but spawning outside of their own domain is just making a mockery out of us."

The girl, who is still sitting on the floor, is still fearful as the woman in front of her becomes angrier.

"Um, excuse me, can I please go now? I need medical assistance, I still don't know where this blood is coming from," she pleads.

"No. You're my proof that those other fangers have been breaching our agreement," the woman snaps.

"How can I be proof of anything to do with vampires? I've never met one in my life!" the girl cries.

"Have you not put two and two together yet, you moron? That blood you keep whinging about is coming from your damn eyes!" the woman yells.

For a moment, the girl is dumbstruck, "From my eyes? Isn't that was vampires do? Am I a vampire?"

"Congratulations, you figured it out."

"But… how? How did this happen? I've never come across a vampire before and everyone says you have to be bitten by one to be turned."

"You said you blacked out, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"You didn't. You've been glamoured."

"What's that?"

"Vampires have the ability to put a human into a trance; it's called glamouring. They use it to get humans to do their bidding but they can also use it to make people forget things that have happened and implant a different memory. Clearly your maker had no intention of sticking around for fear of being caught here, but not bothering to even give you a new memory? That's just plain lazy."

"If I have no memory then how do I know that you're telling me the truth?"

"OK, how about you have a real hard think with that obviously pea-sized brain of yours and come up with an explanation for why on Earth anyone would just bury someone they found unconscious?"

"I… I can't."

"Well, there you go. You weren't unconscious; you were dead. Still are."

The young girls jaw drops in horror before she frantically presses her fingers to her wrist, trying to find a pulse. When her search is unsuccessful, she feels around on her neck, checking for the usually obvious artery. Again, she is unsuccessful.

"Oh my god," she whimpers, "Oh my god"

"God isn't going to help you now," the woman says.

The girl looks up at the still naked woman with a fresh stream bloody tears trickling down her cheeks, "What do I do?"

"You come with me," the woman answers, holding out her hand.

The girl takes the outstretched hand and finds the grasp around her own fingers is surprisingly strong as the woman hoists her to her feet. Upon standing, she discovers that the woman isn't very tall at all and is easily half a foot shorter than her. She watches at the woman walks away and feels around the inside of the fallen tree, retrieving a bundle of clothes. She turns away as the woman catches her eyes.

"Don't even think about running away. With the state you're in, I can easily outrun you and I promise you'll regret it."

"I won't run, I promise."

After getting dressed, the woman wanders over to the spot where the girl had first seen her in wolf form and gathers the mushrooms she had dropped when she transformed. When she is satisfied that all the mushrooms had been collected, she walks back over to the girl.

"What's your name?" she asks.

"My name's Hannah," the girl replies.

"That's easy to remember. OK, Hannah, carry these," the woman says, dumping all of the mushrooms into Hannah's hands.

"Sure."

"Now follow me."

"OK," Hannah says, walking closely behind the woman, "Um, since you know my name, shouldn't I know yours?"

"It's Samantha."


	2. Chapter 2

After a little under half an hour of walking, Samantha and her new burden arrive at a secluded property just outside of the woods. A gravel stone driveway leads up to a two-floor bungalow that stands in the centre premises which is surrounded by tall, well-trimmed hedges.

A normal human being wouldn't be able to see much in the darkness surrounding the building but, without realisation, Hannah's newly developed vampire vision allows her to see the bungalow in much more detail. As she and Samantha make their way up the drive she can see that the design is fairly simple; off-white walls with wooden beams breaking up the otherwise plain colour, a dark brown tiled roof with a quaint little chimney, old-fashioned windows and a veranda supported by wooden pillars runs along half of the front of the house. Ivy grows up the wall and winds around the rafters of the veranda and there are a few flower pots placed randomly. Overall it's quite charming.

"Wow, you live here?" she asks.

"Yes," Samantha replies.

"Do you live alone?"

"No."

"How many other people live here?"

"Two."

"So there are three of you?"

"Yes."

"Will I get to meet them?"

"Yes, you will."

Samantha shakes her head in disbelief. She has never been asked so many questions in the space of a minute. For a moment she focuses on finding her house keys, digging around in the pockets of her denim shorts and successfully retrieving them from one of the back pockets. Shoving one of the keys into the lock she pushes the door open and enters the house. Hannah steps forward with intentions of following her, but finds some sort of invisible force field is preventing her from going any further. Samantha looks back to see Hannah standing in the doorway looking worried.

"I forgot what a pain vampires are," she sighs, "Come in."

Suddenly, Hannah finds herself able to walk through the doorway.

"Is there some kind of spell on your door that stops strangers coming into the house?" Hannah questions.

"No. You're a vampire and that means unless you're invited into someone's house it will be impossible for you to enter," Samantha answers.

"Oh… so every time I walk out of the door I will need someone there to invite me back in again?"

"No, you only need one invitation and then you can come and go as you please. Though, in this case, you won't be leaving this house."

"Why?"

"I already told you; you're my evidence."

"You can't just keep me as a prisoner!" Hannah exclaims.

"By rights, I have the authority to kill you where you stand, fanger! You're on our territory and you will do as I tell you. Evidence or not, I won't hesitate to take your un-dead life if you step out of line," Samantha snarls at her.

Without warning, red tears well up in Hannah's eyes again as she drops to her knees and starts crying. The mushrooms she was carrying scatter on the floor.

"It's not my fault!" she sobs, "I didn't know where I was! I didn't even know I was dead!"

Samantha rolls her eyes and walks over to the dirt-covered girl.

"Look, you're upset, I get it," she sighs, pressing her thumb and index finger to her temples, "I know it seems like I'm blaming all of this on you but I am way passed pissed off and you just so happen to be the indirect reason for that."

Hannah looks up, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, which only smears the blood further across her face.

"I'm sorry," she sniffs.

"It's ok," Samantha replies, turning away as she starts gathering up the mushrooms.

Hannah looks around her, the room she is sitting in acts as both a hallway and a living room with no dividing wall between them. The floors are made of dark hardwood which continues up a staircase that runs along the wall onto the second level. The walls surrounding her are painted a dark red, almost-maroon colour. To her left, a doorway leads into a kitchen.

After collecting all the mushrooms from the floor, Samantha soundlessly walks over to the doorway and flicks a switch before entering. As the light comes on, a relatively modern kitchen is revealed. Hannah picks herself up off of the floor and pursues the older woman, noticing the difference in the texture of the floor as she steps onto the white tiles.

"Oh…" she says, looking down.

"What's wrong?" Samantha asks.

"Nothing's wrong. It's just… I expected the tiles to be cold but they don't feel any different."

"Of course they don't. Your nervous system doesn't work properly anymore."

Samantha doesn't look up as she speaks; concentrating on carefully washing the mushrooms under the tap instead.

"So I won't be able to tell the difference between hot and cold?" Hannah questions as she looks down at her dirty feet and moving them around the tiles to test her theory.

"Not really," Samantha answers.

"Well, that's no good! How will I know when to put a coat on so I don't catch a cold?" Hannah exclaims.

Samantha swivels her head slightly to look at the young girl, flaking dry mud over her clean floor and looking distressed at the idea of becoming sick with the flu, and wonders what on Earth was going on in the head of the vampire that turned her. She dismisses the idea of even trying to explain to Hannah the details of what being dead means and finishes up washing the mushrooms.

Hannah quietly stands on the spot, staring down at her dirty feet. All the cuts and scrapes she previously felt on her toes and soles from when she was wondering around the woods are nowhere to be seen; healed as if they never happened.

"I'll never get ill, will I?" she says, solemnly.

"No. Not in that way."

"In what way would I become ill then?"

"All I know for sure is if you stand in the sunlight or get staked you're as good as dead but that's as far as my knowledge goes. There are methods of weakening vampires but they don't really like to share that information with anyone outside of their own kind."

"Ok, I guess that makes sense. Letting someone like a crazy wolf-lady know how to make a vampire ill would probably be a big mistake."

"Because you're still a little bit disorientated, I'm going to let that insult slide for now," Samantha scolds.

She wipes her hands on a tea towel and walks over to Hannah, looks at the state of her and sighing, grabs her wrist and drags her out of the kitchen.

"Ah!" Hannah yelps at the woman's surprising strength, "Where are we going?"

"You're not the only one with a good sense of smell, girly. You reek of blood and I'm not about to let you stink out my house," she replies, pulling the young vampire up the stairs.

She comes to a halt at the top of the staircase and releases Hannah's wrist. The second floor of the house has the same décor as the first and there are three doorways. Looking to the left, Hannah can see that one door leads into a startlingly white bathroom. To her right there are two closed doors. One of the doors is a little way down on the wall she is facing whilst the other is directly opposite the bathroom.

"Wait here," Samantha orders, walking away and opening the first of the closed doors.

A light comes on inside the room and Hannah is able to see a bedroom coloured in natural, earthy tones; a double bed with beside tables either side. Before she can see anything more, Samantha re-emerges and shuts the door.

"Hold out your hands," she says.

Hannah obediently does as she is told and holds out both of her hands with her wrists facing upwards. She immediately regrets following these instructions as a sharp, burning sensation suddenly perforates her skin. She yells out in pain and tries to pull away but is unable to muster up the strength through the scolding lacerations.

"What are you doing to me?" Hannah cries.

"Calm down, it's only a bit of silver," Samantha growls, "if you struggle it'll only hurt more."

Looking down, Hannah can see that Samantha is wearing thick, leather gloves that are holding onto the ends of a single silver chain that has been wrapped around her wrists.

"I thought you said you didn't know how to weaken a vampire! You were lying!"

"Yes and I'm sorry for that but, if I had told you what silver can do to you, you might have seen this coming and I couldn't risk that. Now sit down on the floor so I can attach you to the radiator."

"Why? So you can scorch my skin a bit more?"

"Don't be so stupid, it's summer, the radiators aren't on. Just do it!"

Hannah frowns and lowers herself to the floor. Samantha crouches down next to her and fastens the chain around the pipe leading into the radiator.

"You're a cow," Hannah grumbles.

"No, I'm a wolf and I'm using my survival instincts," Samantha bluntly states, "I need a shower and there's no knowing what you would do if I left you to your own devices; you could escape, wreck the house or wait just outside the bathroom with a knife in order to stab me to death. None of which I would be very pleased about. So, this is my solution. It's only until I'm done, then I'll untie you.

"Well, hurry up and get in the shower! This friggin' hurts!"

"Whatever, just stay put. Not that I'm giving you much choice in the matter."

Hannah leans her head against the wall, wrinkling her nose at the smell of burning flesh and gritting her teeth at the searing pain of the silver destroying every attempt her skin is making to regenerate.

Eventually, Samantha walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body and another around her hair in a turban. She is holding the leather gloves.

"It's about time! Untie me!" Hannah demands.

"I think you're forgetting your manners, young fanger," Samantha smirks.

"Please!"

"There we go."

She crouches down, pulling the gloves on, and unfastens the chain from the pipe. As she undoes it from Hannah's wrists, a red raw mark in the shape of the chain is left behind but lingers for only a moment before it's replaced with new skin. Hannah breathes a sigh of relief as they both stand up straight.

"That feels better," she says, flexing her wrists.

"Go and have a shower. I trust you know how to work one," Samantha says.

"Of course I do, I'm not stupid," Hannah huffs.

Samantha rolls her eyes, "Don't try anything cute while you're in there, I've double-locked the window and regardless of that I'll be able to hear you."

"Ok, I won't."

"Off you go then. Shower gel and shampoo are on the shelf, fresh towels are hung up on the door."

Hannah nods and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Samantha walks into her bedroom, leaving the door slightly open so that she can listen out.

XXXXXXXXXX

A domestic cat leaps onto a sill and jumps down through the open window, landing gracefully on her feet. She quietly makes her way through the well-lit kitchen, her paws making no sound on the cool, white tiles.

As she reaches the door, it isn't a cat that emerges from the doorway but a young girl no older than seventeen. Her mousy brown hair falls just below her shoulders and frames her pale face. She grabs a woolly cardigan from a coat hook to her right and wraps it around her naked body.

As silently as her feline form, she makes her way up a set of stairs and the sound of running water reaches her ears.

"Typical," she thinks to herself, "Sam's always hogging the shower when I want to get in there."

Turning away to walk into her bedroom, the girl notices the open door and sees the familiar figure of her friend with her back to her, covered by a cream, silk dressing gown. The water is turned off.

She freezes on the spot and analyses the situation, "Surely Gaspard isn't back already so who…"

Her question is answered before she has a chance to finish it as the door to the bathroom opens and a red-haired girl wearing nothing but a towel steps out. The known smell of a vampire floods her senses.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?"


	3. Chapter 3

Samantha spins around and rushes towards her bedroom door as the loud shout reaches her ears and breaks the relative silence. Reaching the doorway she spots a very startled Hannah backed up against the bathroom door clutching her towel. Tilting her head down, she spots the reason behind Hannah's alarm. A grey and brown tabby cat with large patches of white fur on its face and underbelly stands a few metres in front of her; hissing and spitting, ears back, tail bushed up and back arched, looking as if ready to strike.

"Rosie! Stop!" she cries.

The cat ignores her and maintains its stance. Taking action to prevent this situation going any further, Samantha jumps forward landing next to the cat and putting her hand on the back of its neck before pushing the angry feline to the floor. A second later, the cat turns back into a young girl.

"Get off me!" the girl yells.

"Not until you calm down!" Samantha yells back.

"I'll calm down once you tell me what that… that… THING is doing here!" the girl roars, her rage building.

"I brought her here and there's a perfectly good reason for that," Samantha growls back, "Now, if you promise to behave, I'll let go. Don't mess with me, Rosie. I'm really not in the mood."

Rosie frowns as if she is going to continue her verbal rampage but instead sighs, admitting defeat to herself, "Fine. Let me go."

"Good."

Samantha releases the pressure from the back of Rosie's neck and stands up. Slowly, the girl raises her naked body off of the floor into a sitting position, pulling on her fallen cardigan.

"Well?" Rosie says expectantly.

"I'm going to get dressed and try to find Hannah some clothes," Samantha says," Go and sit downstairs."

"Oh, it has a name," Rosie smirks, shooting a glance at Hannah.

"Just go and wait for me, please."

Rosie promptly stands, turns on her heels and makes her way down the stairs. Samantha rubs her forehead and looks over at Hannah who is still backed up against the bathroom door. She makes a single motion with her hand telling the young vampire to follow her. Hannah obeys and pursues her into the bedroom.

Walking through the door, Hannah finds that the earth tones that she had spotted on the walls earlier are a reoccurring theme throughout the whole room. Whilst the walls are a golden caramel colour, the silk bed covers are a deep, chocolate brown and the hardwood floor has continued from the hallway into the bedroom but the darkness of the wooden panels has been broken up by a beige and cream striped rug placed in front of a dressing table. All of the furniture is an off-white which creates a beautiful contrast and most of the surfaces are embellished with ornaments, candles and photo frames.

"This is lovely," Hannah gasps.

"Thanks," Samantha replies, opening the wardrobe adjacent to the wall and looking thoughtfully at the contents.

"I didn't think a werewolf house would be so decorative. Um, you are a werewolf, right? Or is that just a name given to you by other people?"

"No, you were right the first time. I'm a werewolf."

"Ok, I just thought maybe you were just referred to as a shape-shifter or something."

"I am a shape-shifter of sorts. I'm just not classed as a true one because I'm only able to transform into a wolf, nothing else. However, my friend Rosie, whom you have just encountered, she is a true shape-shifter. She can change into any animal."

"So, she's not a werecat then?"

"No, I've never encountered one of those."

"So there really are werecats out there?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. I've come across werefoxes before."

Hannah raises her eyebrows in surprise. She had never imagined the world of supernatural creatures to be so broad. She'd never even heard of werefoxes before now or even considered the possibility that some of the cats she had come across in her lifetime might not have been cats at all.

"Here you go," Samantha says, snapping Hannah out of her train of thought.

She is holding a plaid shirt, a pair of denim shorts and some underwear. Hannah takes the clothes from her, the pleasant smell of fabric conditioner wafts to her nose.

"Thank you," She says.

"I don't have any bras that you can borrow so you'll have to do without," Samantha replies, "My en suite toilet is through the door on the other side of the bed; you can get changed in there."

Hannah nods and makes her way across the room as Samantha continues her wardrobe search for something she can wear. Eventually, she gives up and settles for a fresh set of cream silk pyjamas. Hannah emerges from the bathroom shortly afterwards, wearing her temporary outfit.

"Does it fit?" Samantha asks.

"Yeah," Hannah replies, looking sheepish.

"What's the problem?"

"It's not a big deal but I was thinking that maybe the shorts are a little too short."

"That would be because you're a fair bit taller than me and I can't exactly put you in the wash to shrink you so you'll have to put up with it for now. Come on, I have a lot to explain to Rosie if I want to prevent her from staking you in your sleep."

The two of them leave Samantha's bedroom and make their way downstairs. Rosie is sitting patiently on one of the upholstered, vintage pattern sofas. She glares at Hannah as she descends the stairs, her eyes narrowing as she catches the vampires scent.

"Sit," Samantha orders Hannah, who adheres to her command.

The werewolf seats herself next to the young vampire, opposite to where the shape-shifter is sitting.

"I think you've kept me waiting long enough, Sam. What the hell is going on?" Rosie asks.

"This girl right here," Samantha begins, indicating towards Hannah, "Is a baby vampire."

"Right…," Rosie says, unsure of where this conversation is going.

"She was made last night."

"Um, I hate to break it to you, Sam, but it's not illegal for vampires to create progenies."

"I know that. But, I found her in our territory and from what she's told me, that's where she was created."

Rosie raises an eyebrow, "You're joking, right?"

"I wish I was," Samantha sighs, "But unfortunately, this is no joke."

"Why would they do this? Rosie exclaims, "After nearly four years of keeping their word about leaving these woods alone and now we're dealing with new vampires popping up like daisies."

"Right now, Hannah is the only one I'm aware of but that's enough to raise suspicion," Samantha says, "I'm not completely sure but this could be the start of them trying to take over our territory again."

"You would think as Sheriff of Essex, Elizabeth would be keeping an eye on things."

"Yes, she should. But let's face it; Elizabeth isn't exactly a lawful vampire herself."

"True but as far as I'm aware Gaspard made it very clear that this is sacred ground. His ancestors were here long before the vampires. They have no right to set foot on it."

"That's right and if this keeps happening it's going to create a big problem for us. The vampires have come out of the coffin; public knowledge is no longer an issue for them and that was their choice. Some still stay hidden but most don't bother to conceal what they are. Werewolves and shape-shifters, among other supernatural beings, have chosen to stay hidden but if the vampires drive us out we will have to move to a different territory or risk being exposed."

"But there isn't another territory!"

"Exactly, we'd end up clashing with the others."

"So, what do we do?"

"We wait for Gaspard."

"Why? I say we take little miss anti-sunshine and track down Elizabeth now," Rosie cries, standing up and pointing at Hannah as she speaks, "He left you in charge so it's not like we need to ask his permission."

"He may have left me in charge but that doesn't give me the authority to storm onto Elizabeth's turf and demand an explanation, "Samantha replies, "Her agreement was with him, not me."

Rosie throws herself back down on the sofa in a huff and folds her arms, "Well, that sucks."

Throughout this entire conversation, Hannah has been sitting quietly on her seat, wondering what her fate will be in this messy situation. Her only certainty is that she will be kept alive for now.

"It's nearly dawn," Samantha says, "You have college in the morning, Rosie, so go and get some rest. I need to find somewhere for Hannah to sleep."

"Just keep her away from me," Rosie sneers.

Once Rosie has disappeared up the stairs and into her bedroom, Samantha turns to Hannah who is staring straight forward; her elbows are resting on her knees, one being used to prop her head up and the other hanging loosely, an absent-minded expression on her face.

Samantha drags herself off of the sofa and stands, raises her arms above her head and stretches her body before looking around the room thoughtfully.

"Who's Gaspard?" Hannah asks, finally breaking the silence.

"He's my boyfriend," Samantha answers, walking across the room.

"Is he a werewolf too?" Hannah questions as she turns around to face Samantha.

"Yes," Samantha replies, stopping in a corner behind the sofa.

Hannah begins to feel rude for asking so many questions about Samantha's life. She has always had a habit of being too intrusive though she has never been intentionally nosey, just curious. But there is one question begging to be asked.

"Are you going to make me sleep in a coffin?"

"No and even if I did have a coffin lying around somewhere, I would never give you the luxury of sleeping in it. I think you're forgetting that you're still my prisoner and the only reason you're alive is because you're evidence. Yes; I let you wash and gave you clean clothes but that isn't because I want to be friends with you, it's because if I treat you badly, it might be used against me."

Hannah looks away from Samantha, feeling embarrassed and slightly hurt. She may not be entirely human now but she doesn't like being referred to as an object to be used. Turning back, she can see that Samantha has moved a small table which reveals a metal handle nailed to the floor; a trap door.

"Bedtime," Samantha says, pulling on the handle.

Hannah gets up and walks round to stand next to Samantha. Looking down, she can make out a ladder leading down to a bare, concrete floor.

"This is where I'll be sleeping?"

"Yes, now get a move on."

"But…"

"Don't make me push you."

Hannah gulps in fear before slowly lowering herself down onto the ladder. She then carefully makes her way down, taking her time to find each step.

"You know, I have better things to do than watch you struggle to get down a ladder like some child that's afraid of the dark. Just use your vampire speed and go," Samantha scowls.

"My vampire what?" Hannah calls up to her.

Sighing, Samantha lets go of the trap door and it slams shut, leaving Hannah in pitch black darkness. She hears a whimper as she padlocks it and places the table back over the top.

Once upstairs, Samantha throws herself onto her bed and lies on her back, stretching out her limbs to take up as much space as possible. As she rolls over in order to turn off the bedside table lamp, she notices that the little light on her mobile phone is flashing; a text message. She unlocks her phone and reads:

"_I know it's probably quite late but if you get this before you go to bed then call me, please. I need your voice x"_

She smiles to herself before opening her contacts list and dialling. It rings a couple of times.

"Hello," a man on the other end of the line speaks.

"Hey, I got your text," Samantha replies.

"I'm glad I sent it in time. It's good to talk to you again," his deep voice sighs with relief.

Samantha smiles again, "We only spoke the other day, Gaspard."

"I know, but it feels longer," he says, hints of a French accent leaking into his sentence, "How are you?"

"I would love to tell you that everything is perfect," she says, "But, it's far from it."

"What's wrong?" he replies, his tone changes and sounds worried.

Samantha takes a breath before answering, "I have a new-born progeny in the basement, fresh out of our soil."

Gaspard goes quiet. Samantha bites her lip, knowing he is about to become very angry. She can almost see what his face would look like right now; his dark eyebrows pulled into a frown over his sky blue eyes, the corner of his top lip raised on one side in contempt, making the bite-mark scars on his cheek more visible.

"Son of a bitch!" he growls, breathing heavily in a bid to control himself.

"I'm sorry," Samantha speaks softly to him.

"No," he says, his anger swiftly diminishing, "You don't need to be sorry, petite amie, it's not your fault. I should have anticipated something like this. It's the first time I've been away since the agreement was made; it makes sense that they would use it as an opportunity to test the water. They know I will have left someone in charge but they also know that no matter who it is, they won't have as much authority."

"What do I do?" she asks.

"I don't know."

"That's great. You're such a wonderful packmaster; knowing exactly what to do in a crisis."

"Forgive me; I may have had a beer."

"It's alright, I was only messing around. Should I just keep her in the basement for now then?"

"No, I think that would be a bad idea. We may not be torturing her but locking her away with no means of feeding could cause more problems than it solves."

"Please don't tell me you're expecting me to babysit her until you come back?"

"No," Gaspard laughs, "As funny as that would be to watch, I would never be so cruel to you. What I would like you to do is take her to Elizabeth. As my substitute for packmaster, I give you the authority to do so. She may not like it but she also knows if she lays a hand on you the full strength of the pack will be brought down upon her."

"You really think that's a good idea?" Samantha grimaces.

"I have complete faith in you, Sam," he assures her.

"You're possibly the only one, given my history," she sighs.

"Just remember, you have the upper hand; you're in control," he says, "Now, tomorrow night, ask Ian for the night off and go to Crucifix. Nine times out of ten that'll be where you can find Elizabeth and her clan. Tell her I sent you."

"So much for doing overtime," Samantha smiles, "Just know that if this goes to shit it's going to be your fault."

"I take full responsibility for anything that happens. Have one of the pack members on standby, just to be safe. I don't want you getting hurt."

"I'm a big girl, Gaspard; I know how to deal with vampires."

"I know, but I would never forgive myself if any harm came to you."

"Alright, I'll go. Tomorrow night. I'll take Hannah with me."

"Nice to see you're on first name basis with her, at least you're being civil. Try to remember that she was unaware of what she had done. You can't blame her."

"I don't. But I can still yell at her to relieve some stress."

"Be nice. I love you."

"I love you too."

Samantha's phone makes a beeping sound, telling her that the phone call has ended. She places it back on the bedside table and switches off the lamp; thinking about how tomorrow night will pan out snuggles into bed and closes her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter has been crossed over with Love Of Midnight by Singingfrogs. Check her out!

* * *

Around midday, there is a knock on Samantha's front door. She gets up off of the sofa, puts down the book she is reading and makes her way over to the door. When she opens it, Samantha comes face to face with a pretty woman with startlingly blue eyes. Straight, blonde hair flows down just past her shoulders and frames her pale face.

"Imogen, thanks for coming over on such short notice," she smiles.

"That's ok. It's not like I have anything better to do on my day off," she smiles.

"Come in," Samantha insists, stepping aside to allow her friend into the house.

"Wow, you've obviously made your mark here. Last time I saw this place was the get-together Gaspard hosted for your two year anniversary," Imogen says, looking all around her.

"Should I take that as a compliment?"

"You most definitely should. Gaspard may be a wonderful photographer but his sense of interior design is awful," Imogen laughs, "No offense but the beige walls were just one big pile of ugly. This is much nicer."

"Thanks," Samantha grins, "You want a drink?"

"Cream soda, please," Imogen replies.

Samantha moves into the kitchen and Imogen follows behind her. Whilst Samantha walks over to the right-hand side, Imogen branches off to the left, taking a seat on one of the high stools on the opposite side of the kitchen island.

"Imogen, I have a favour to ask of you," Samantha says, turning to face her friend and leaning against the counter.

"I gathered from your message that this wasn't just a catch up," Imogen says, lazily swivelling back and forth on the stool, "So, what do you need?"

"I'm going to Crucifix tonight and I need you to act as back up," Samantha states.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Imogen exclaims, ceasing to swivel.

"That's quite possible."

"Why would you even think about doing that?"

"I have no choice; Gaspard's orders."

"Ok, I take it back. Is Gaspard fucking crazy?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Will you please just chill out?"

Imogen takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as she exhales.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologise. I'm well aware of how mad this sounds but it's my responsibility to follow my packmaster's orders; boyfriend or not."

"You may say 'boyfriend or not' but, let's be honest, it's going to have to be a pretty serious situation for him to send you to a club crawling with werewolf-hating blood suckers."

"I would say it could potentially be a very serious situation," Sam sighs.

"Care to elaborate?" Imogen asks.

"I hope this is the last time I have to explain this to someone because I'm going to get sick of saying it but there's a vampire in my basement right now. She's brand new to the life of the undead and it just so happens that her birthplace is smack bang in the middle of our woods which might, if left unattended, leave us in one big pile of shit," Samantha clarifies.

"Oh," Imogen says, dumbstruck, "Well… if you had mentioned that in the first place I probably wouldn't have questioned anyone's sanity."

"You didn't exactly give me a chance," Samantha smiles as she grabs a couple of cream soda cans from the fridge.

"My mum always told me to hear the full story before freaking out," Imogen muses to herself, "It never really sunk in."

"In one ear and out of the other," Sam adds, passing Imogen one of the cans.

"Yeah, a bit like Rosie was really," Imogen replies.

"Not was; is."

"So she's still insisting that this boyfriend of hers is the dog's bollocks?"

"I don't think he has any. It's been over a month now and he's declined every single offer to meet us."

"Maybe he's worried you won't like him."

"Maybe he's worried I'll see straight through him."

"Rosie's a smart girl, maybe you should just leave her to it."

"She may be smart but infatuation makes logic sound like gibberish."

"We've all been there; she's going to learn one way or another and it might have to be the hard way. I think as long as you're there for her when it all goes to shit then it'll be fine. Then again, he might turn out to be a decent guy."

"He's an eighteen-year old college boy whose testosterone levels are probably off the Richter scale and, both fortunately and unfortunately, Rosie is a very attractive young lady."

"Yeah, I see where you're going with this."

"This is why I worry," Samantha frets, sipping her drink.

"Well, there's only so much you can do," Imogen says, giving a comforting smile to her fellow wolf, "But, moving the conversation back to the reason I'm here, my answer is yes. I will be more than happy to help you carry out my packmaster's orders."

"Great!" Samantha exclaims.

An hour passes by with the two of them catching up on events that have occurred outside of pack life; their work, their personal hobbies, their love lives; mostly what any regular human women would talk about.

"Right, I've got dry-cleaning to collect for my mum so I better get going," Imogen sighs.

"Good idea," Samantha laughs, "You don't want an angry mum on your case."

"You got that right," Imogen grimaces, "Don't underestimate the wrath of an old wolf."

Samantha walks Imogen to the door and they embrace each other before she leaves.

"Ten o'clock?" she calls, glancing back at Samantha as she walks away.

"Yeah, see you then!"

XXXXXXXXXX

That night, Samantha is standing in front a mirror, scrutinizing her own reflection. The skinny jeans are uncomfortable, the top is too low-cut, the makeup is too dark, the heels are too high and the last time she had worn a studded choker was during her gothic phase as a teenager, in fact, she doesn't even know why she still has it.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she sighs before gasping, "Oh, crap!"

Grabbing her phone from the dressing table in front of her, Samantha hunts for Gaspard's number in her contacts list and taps the dial button.

A robotic female voice answers before it even rings, "Sorry, but the person you have called is currently unavailable, please try again later. If you would like to leave a message, please wait until after the tone."

"You've got to be kidding me," she mutters.

Samantha hangs up. Not bothering to leave him a message but goes back to her contacts list and calls Phillipe, Gaspard's brother, whom he has been visiting for the week.

"Bonjour, Samantha," Phillipe answers after a few rings.

"Bonjour, Phillipe. Can I speak to your brother, please? His phone is switched off," Samantha replies.

"I'm afraid he has already left. Robyn is taking him to the airport. I would have done it myself but I have something urgent I need to tend to. They should be nearly there by now but if you hurry you might be able to catch her on her cell."

"Ok, merci."

Samantha hangs up and once again searches her contacts to find the names listed under the letter R. Finding the name she needs, she taps the dial button. It rings several times.

"Hello?" A familiar voice speaks to her.

"Robyn! Thank goodness you answered your phone!" Samantha breathes a sigh of relief.

"Sam, is everything ok?" Robyn asks.

"Phillipe said you were dropping Gaspard off at the airport. Is he with you?"

"He literally just got out of the car. Did you need to ask him something?"

"It's just he didn't tell me what time his flight is going to be landing! I have no idea when I'm supposed to pick him up!"

"Hang on a second," Robyn chuckles, obviously finding Samantha's unusual lack of organisation amusing. Samantha hears movement on the other end of the line and the sound of heavy rain before getting an earful of Robyn yelling out," Gaspard! What time is your flight landing?"

Samantha, even with her heightened senses, hears no reply. For a moment, she puts it down on the reception and the weather until Robyn's voice comes to the speaker again.

"How do you get anything out of that man? All I got was a shrug. He's as bad as Eric."

"Twat," Sam grumbles under her breath, "Ok, thanks for trying, I hope everything's cool on your end. I would love to have a proper chat but I have some business to take care of."

"That's alright. It seems the pair of us never has a moment of rest."

"You have no idea," Sam laughs.

"Now, you be careful, and don't get yourself killed, yeah?" Robyn says.

"Don't worry, I won't. Take care, Robyn."

"You too."

Samantha hangs up and stuffs her phone into a small clutch bag along with her purse, grabs a small perfume bottle off of her dresser and practically douses her entire body with it; the scent of blood floods her senses, making her gag a bit.

She leaves her bedroom and makes her way down the stairs. Rosie is slouched on the sofa in her pyjamas, flicking through the different channels on the television but pauses to turn around as the strong smell of vital fluid reaches her nose. Her jaw drops slightly at the sight of Samantha.

"Wow! Who are you and what've you done with Sam?" Rosie exclaims.

"You're not funny," Samantha scowls.

"I'm not trying to be; you look good," Rosie smiles.

"I look ridiculous," Samantha disagrees.

"Let me take a picture of you!"

"Take a picture and I cancel your phone contract."

"Oh, come on. Please?"

Samantha ignores her and walks over to the small table covering the trap door handle and moves it aside. Not bothering to even attempt crouching down in her jeans, she hooks the toe of her shoe under the handle and flips it open.

"Rise and shine!" she calls down the hatch.

Hannah, who has been huddled up in a corner of the basement all night, lifts her head in response to Samantha's voice. She has been drifting in and out of consciousness since being shoved into complete darkness, unable to sleep fitfully due to too many thoughts floating through her mind, but the sudden burst of light and sound brings her out of her state of inactivity. Hannah raises herself off of the floor, wincing slightly as she extends her legs, and walks over to the ladder.

"Is it morning?" she asks.

"For you, it is," Samantha replies.

"Oh, yeah, right," Hannah murmurs.

"Well, don't just stand there," Sam says, "Get your arse up here."

Samantha takes a step back as Hannah climbs out of the trap door. She brushes herself off and moves her hair away from her face. The sound of a phone camera going off comes from Hannah's left. Looking over she discovers Rosie, hiding between the sofa cushions, with a big smile on her face. Following the direction of Rosie's eyes, Hannah's jaw drops as the woman in front of her is barely recognisable.

"ROSIE!" Samantha shouts.

"What? It went off by accident!" Rosie cries.

"You better delete that right now before I take your phone and stamp on it," Samantha growls.

"Ok, Ok! Fine! I'll delete it," Rosie exclaims.

Before Hannah can say a word, an alluring scent wafts to her nostrils. It is akin to nothing she had ever smelt before; rich, pungent and enticing. Without warning, the teeth either side of her front incisors suddenly elongate into full vampire fangs and she gasps as she feels the sharp points brush the inside of her lower lip, clapping her hand over her mouth. Samantha raises an eyebrow at her.

"Hungry, by any chance?" she says.

"I'm so sorry," Hannah blushes, her hand still covering part of her face, "I don't know what happened."

"You caught a whiff of the perfume I'm wearing," Samantha states.

"What is it? It smells amazing. It smells like..."

"Blood," Samantha interrupts.

"What?" Hannah breathes, her hand slowly moving away from her lips.

"It smells like blood. It's made by the same people who manufacture Tru Blood; I wouldn't advise drinking it though."

"That's disgusting!"

"I'm not the one who just got so over-excited about it that my fangs popped out."

"No, I mean, it smells really nice but it's disgusting that I think that."

"You're a vampire. You'll get used to it and I'm sure you'll be feeding from some random fangbanger in no time once I hand you over to Elizabeth," Samantha states.

"Feed from humans? Yuck!" Hannah exclaims, "And who the heck is Elizabeth?"

"You'll see," Samantha replies.

The sound of a car pulling up on the gravel stone driveway is followed by visible headlights through the net curtains.

"Sam!" Rosie calls, pointing to the coffee table where a set of keys have been placed, " I'm not moving from this sofa so take your keys."

Samantha scowls at the young girl before grabbing her keys and stuffing them into her bag.

"Let's go, Hannah. Move it," she orders, "Jump in the back seat."

Hannah makes her way out of the door with Samantha following immediately after her who only stops to shut the front door. Doing as instructed, she gets into the back seat of the car and Samantha hops into the front passenger seat. The driver is a young woman with straight blonde hair and a pale complexion.

"Are we ready to rock and roll?" she asks Samantha.

"Ready as I'll ever be, Imogen," Samantha sighs.

"Fabulous!" Imogen responds.

The car reverses off of the driveway and the three of them make their way to what a lot of people, humans and werewolves alike, would call a walk-in mausoleum.

"We're going to get ourselves killed, aren't we?"


	5. Chapter 5

The car pulls up across the road from a wide, brightly lit alleyway between two tall office tower blocks.

"You're clear on the plan, right?" Samantha asks.

"Yes; I wait around the corner in the car and be prepared to come to your aid at a moment's notice whilst you try your hardest to get yourself killed by attempting to pass for a vampire," Imogen replies.

"That's right. Wish me luck!" she says, stepping out of the car before opening the rear door to let Hannah out.

As they walk across the road, Hannah can see that the alleyway is a dead end, but instead of there just being a wall, there's a single story building. If not for the red neon sign and the small queue of people standing outside it could be mistaken for an abandoned storehouse; the masonry paint is peeling off of the walls revealing dark red brickwork underneath and the windows have all been boarded up. On the right hand side is a short queue of people leading up to an open door which is being chaperoned by what she assumes is a security guard.

"Keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking," Samantha says under her breath as they get closer.

Hannah doesn't respond but subconsciously presses her lips together. They join the line of people who are waiting to get into the club.

Once they reach the entrance, Samantha and Hannah are confronted with an extremely tall man with short, spiked, bed-head style blonde hair and eyes that couldn't decide whether they wanted to be green or blue. He is wearing a pinstriped navy blue shirt untucked from his black designer jeans which most likely had to be tailor-made for his immense height. Hannah's own blue-green eyes are unable to tear themselves away from him.

"Good evening, ladies," he smiles at them and glances at Samantha before his eyes fall upon Hannah. His smile fades a little, though it's clear that it isn't out of displeasure, but instead it becomes a look of fascination and, for a moment, it seems as though he could be knocked down by a feather.

Samantha raises an eyebrow at him and looks back at Hannah who is equally as enchanted with him as he is her. She rolls her eyes and loudly clears her throat. The young man is snapped out of his trance.

"If you're quite done giving my progeny the eyeball, we'd like to be let in, please," Samantha scowls.

"Oh, I'm sorry, of course," he stutters, moving aside to allow them to enter the building. He smiles at Hannah again as she passes by.

Upon walking into the club it is obvious that, although the outside of the building looks vastly neglected, the interior has had a lot of effort put into it. A small set of steps lead down onto the main floor. To their right is the bar; bottles of all different colours are lined up on shelves along the wall as well as a display case in the centre with the words 'Tru Blood' on a lit sign above several bottles, all of the same crimson red, stacked up in a pyramid-shape. To their left are two different social zones; a seating area where plush looking armchairs are set up around small, low tables and a dance floor with several podiums set up, one of which is occupied by a very slim, pink-haired, pale-skinned girl who is wearing a PVC mini skirt with a matching corset. As she moves to the beat of the loud, heavy music Hannah wonders whether this girl is paid to dance and dress so provocatively or she is just doing it for fun.

"This is where vampires hang out?" Hannah asks, looking slightly appalled.

"Get used to it," Samantha replies.

Samantha walks over to the bar and sits herself down on one of the high stools. Hannah follows her and takes a seat beside her.

"Why did you call me your progeny?" she queries, keeping her voice low.

"If I tell people that I'm your maker then passing for a vampire becomes a hell of a lot easier for me," mutters back.

"What's a maker? You've used that word a lot and it means absolutely nothing to me! And why couldn't you just pretend to be human, vampires have human friends that party with them, right?"

"Your maker is the vampire that turned you and I didn't want to pretend to be human because that would mean the reason I'm here is because you've claimed me. Seeing as you know bugger all about vampires, regardless of being one, I wasn't going to risk that."

"Claimed?"

Their conversation is cut short when Samantha notices the bartender walking towards them.

"What can I get you?" she asks, putting both hands down on the bar and looking at them expectantly through her black rimmed glasses.

"Tru Blood, please, two of them; warmed. O positive," Samantha replies.

"Coming right up," the bartender says.

Samantha places her clutch bag on the counter and successfully fishes out her purse. They wait as the bartender grabs two bottles identical to the ones in the display case from a fridge located below the shelves of drink and takes them over to the far corner of the bar. Hannah watches curiously as the woman opens a small door beneath the counter and places the bottles inside and only when she hears the faint beep of buttons being pressed does she realise that it's a microwave.

"This music is so loud; how is it even possible that I can hear what she's doing all the way over there?" Hannah questions.

"This is what I meant when I said you know bugger all about being a vampire. When you were turned, all of your senses amplified," Samantha explains, "You're far more precise than you were as a human; your eyesight will have improved to suit your nocturnal lifestyle; your sense of smell will now pick up things that humans are completely oblivious to and, when you're concentrating, your ears will effectively become radars."

"Ok, if that's true, how come no one here picked up on our conversation about why you're not pretending to be human?"

"Look around. None of them are concentrating."

The bartender returns with their drinks and hands them over to Samantha before tapping in the order on a touch-screen till. She adjusts her glasses and brushes a few stray strands of mousey brown hair away from her face as she waits for the machine to process the information.

"That'll be seventeen pounds, please," she says.

Samantha searches through her purse to find the correct change and hands it over to the bartender who thanks her and walks away to serve another customer. Hannah is handed one of the two red bottles.

"You better enjoy that because it was fucking expensive," Samantha says, "Eight pounds fifty each for O positive is a rip off."

"O positive? That's a blood type!" Hannah gasps, "Is this blood?"

"Yes and no; it's synthetic. Think of it as the vegetarian option for vampires."

Hannah watches Samantha sip from her drink and then looks down at her own. She studies the label on the bottle:

O POSITIVE

100% PURE

TRU:BLOOD

O

BLOOD TYPE

Mentally reassuring herself that it isn't real blood, she takes her first sip. Regardless of it having the same enticing smell as Samantha's perfume, she had expected the taste to be rusty and metallic but the taste of the liquid that flows past her lips and into her mouth is like warm honey; mouth-wateringly sweet. She takes the bottle away from her lips and exhales.

"Nice?" Samantha asks.

"I thought it was going to be like licking a battery but this is amazing!" Hannah exclaims.

"Lovely. Let's move," Samantha orders, getting up off of her stool, "I need to find Elizabeth and speak to her about the little situation we found ourselves in last night."

Hannah tailgates Samantha, keeping close to her as they make their way to the edge of the seating area in order to work their way around the room without drawing too much attention to themselves.

"Who's Elizabeth?" Hannah asks.

Before Hannah's question is answered, a rush of air passes her and moves her hair as if there were a gust of wind in the building, and suddenly Samantha is being held against the wall by her throat. A tall woman with long, black hair has her hand wrapped around the werewolf's neck in a vice-like grip. She tilts her head towards Hannah, smiling menacingly with her fangs bared.

"That would be me."

People in the immediate vicinity are staring at the three of them. Hannah is frozen in fear as she watches the woman, Elizabeth, turn her head back to face Samantha. She is startled to discover Samantha's eyes slowly changing colour, from chocolate brown to illuminated gold, but the vampire standing in front of her only laughs slightly.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, little doggy," Elizabeth sneers, "You're already in way over your head but I'm assuming there's a reason you're here so I'm going to give you one minute to tell me what you're doing on my turf before I rip your head off your fucking shoulders."

"I've been sent here by my packmaster to speak with you in regards to your breach of agreement," Samantha says, struggling to speak through the pressure being put on her windpipe.

Elizabeth scrutinizes Samantha, as if trying to decipher whether or not she is being truthful, then takes a brief look at Hannah before looking back, frowning as she releases Samantha from her clutch.

"Congratulations, you've caught my attention," Elizabeth states, "Let's take this conversation elsewhere, shall we?"

"Lead the way," Samantha coughed, rubbing her neck where the vampire's fingers had been clamped.

Elizabeth spins around to the onlookers who witnessed the exchanged and smiles sweetly at them.

"Nothing to see here, my allies," she says, "I was just greeting an old friend."

After a few raised eyebrows, the other vampires and their human companions sceptically avert their eyes. Once she is content that there is no longer anyone watching, she turns her head towards Samantha, her fake smile immediately dropping from her face, and wordlessly walks towards the opposite side of the club. Samantha grabs Hannah's arm and shoves her in front as they both follow Elizabeth across the dance floor. The people dancing on and around the podiums pay them no attention; too distracted by the intoxicated and vulnerable humans. She wonders how many of them will be going home with teeth marks in their neck.

They appear to have finally arrived at their destination when the trio reach a door with the words 'Manager's Office' printed on it, located at the very end of the bar. But, as Elizabeth goes to put her hand on the handle, a young woman with dark brown locks of hair flowing just past her shoulders, a blonde-streaked fringe curled into a victory roll and eyes framed with long, dark eyelashes, appear out of nowhere and blocks their way.

"No disrespect, Elizabeth, but you can't go in there," she says, "Chloe is feeding."

"No disrespect, Sophie, but I have much more important things to be focused on than whether or not Chloe is getting her five litres a day," Elizabeth replies, "Now, move."

The woman places a hand on her hip and leans her hourglass figure back a bit to peer behind her superior.

"Troublemakers?" she smirks, before reaching out and pulling the handle down, "If she gets annoyed, don't you dare try and blame it on me, or I'll set my sister on you."

Elizabeth looks over to the bar, catching the eye of the bartender, and smiles before walking through the door. Samantha and Hannah follow her before the door is slammed shut behind them.

They find themselves standing in a small office. It looks like any other manager's office; simple interior decoration, desk, computer, standard office chair and a plush three-seated sofa. The only thing that didn't match the conventional office was that the person assumed to be the manager is feeding on a human. Samantha wrinkles her nose in disgust at the sight of blood trailing down the human man's chest as he moans in pleasure.

"Chloe, I need to use your office," Elizabeth states.

The other vampire ceases to drink and moves her mouth away from her victim's neck. Blood drizzles from her mouth and down her chin.

"That's ok. I was just finishing," she smiles, licking her fangs, "Can I offer you a drink?"

"No thanks, maybe later."

"Suit yourself."

Chloe pricks her finger with one of her fangs and rubs the blood from the wound onto the man's skin, healing the bite marks she had left. Grabbing his hand, she leads him out of the room.

"So," Elizabeth begins, taking a seat on the chair and resting her boots on the desk, "I take it you're Gaspard's Beta wolf. Any reason why he couldn't come to see me himself? After all, my agreement was with him, not with any of the lower ranking wolves in his little posse."

"It's a pack, not a posse, and Gaspard is out of the country. He has left me in charge, making me temporary Alpha," Samantha replies.

"He does make some strange choices at times," Elizabeth grins.

"You might think they're strange but at least they're the right ones," Samantha says, "Unlike the decisions you seem to be making as of recent."

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about, my dear," Elizabeth sighs, "But please do enlighten me on what this terrible choice is that I have made."

"I'm talking about vampires in your area, that you are supposed to be controlling, not abiding by the terms of the arrangement between yourself and my Alpha," Samantha retorts, pointing a finger at Hannah, "I'm talking about her."

"I've never seen her in my life."

"No, but she was a nice little present for us, courtesy of one of your own. Unfortunately, I don't have a receipt but I'll be happy to take an explanation instead of a full refund."

Elizabeth looks at Hannah and laughs, "Welcome to the top of the food chain, sweetheart."

"Well?" Samantha asks impatiently.

"I believe this situation could prove to be useful for both of us. Then again, you tail-waggers can be so difficult to work with sometimes."

"Try me."

"I think I have a good idea of who this girl's maker is. She's no longer a vampire under my authority and hasn't been for a long time now but, if I remember rightly, she was a big part of why Gaspard came to me in the first place. She has a bad habit of creating progenies and sodding off before they even wake up."

"I thought progenies were like children to vampires?"

"They are to most but there's always going to be an outlier."

"Who is she?"

"I'm ashamed to say it but she is my own progeny; Nancy."

"That's delightful."

"Do not mock me."

"I'm not mocking you; just your mothering skills. How sure are you that we're talking about your disobedient offspring here?"

"GEORGE! SARAH!" Elizabeth yells.

The office door rapidly opens and closes. Within seconds, two red-haired vampires are standing either side of Elizabeth. One of them is a young boy, no older than 16, and the other is a girl who looks to be around the same age as Hannah. Samantha recognises them both.

"So, we finally have names to go with the faces of the vampires causing havoc in the neighbouring territories," Samantha says.

Neither of them says a word. They only sneer at the werewolf.

"These are my grandchildren. Both of them are progenies of my own child. Notice any similarities between these two and your little friend over there?" Elizabeth asks.

Samantha looks back at Hannah, who is sitting down on the sofa, "They're all red-heads?"

"Bingo!" Elizabeth smirks, "My progeny has a thing for gingers. Don't ask me why."

"So, this is what you do? You go along picking up after her? Why am I not surprised that these troublemakers are the result of your upbringing?" Samantha laughs, "If she's your child, you're hardly going to give her up to us so how is this any use to me?"

"Regardless of who she is to me, I still want to bring her in. She needs to be put on a leash, even I know that. She's a disgrace and I will eventually have her back under my control but if she's running around on Gaspard's ground, I can't get anywhere near her. So, we can make a deal."

"You're not getting a one-night only pass into our territory."

"I haven't said a word yet, so be a good girl and listen. Part of the agreement between Gaspard and I was that any vampire caught trespassing on your sacred little patch of woodland without good reason would be executed. Seeing as I not only spared your life when you were knowingly invading my area, but will also allow you to leave unharmed, I request that if you come across Nancy, you spare hers. Of course, feel free to take her prisoner and bring her to me but the deal is that I, and only I, will do the punishing."

Samantha thinks for a moment. She contemplates what Gaspard would do in this situation; would he accept the deal in hopes of gaining a more solid relationship with the vampires who could come in handy in the future? Or would he decline to prevent them believing the pack has gone soft? He definitely wasn't the sort of person to create unnecessary conflict.

"Alright, it's a deal."

"Smart puppy, I'll tell you what, I'll throw in a bonus. I'll take my new grandchild off your hands too, if you like?" Elizabeth offers, indicating towards Hannah.

This is a question that Samantha has no problems answering. She looks back at Hannah who is still sitting quietly on the sofa, looking uneasy and scared; almost as if she's terrified at the idea of being handed over to her own kind.

"Not the best additional compensation I've ever been offered but I think I'll keep her," Samantha replies, "We've become quite attached to each other and after all, I'll need some bait."

"How sweet," Elizabeth laughs, "There's a one in a billion chance that Nancy might come back for her but whatever. Just don't come crawling back on all fours expecting me to have preserved my offer once you realise looking after a vampire is more trouble than you can handle. "

"I don't crawl; I sashay," Samantha retorts, "Besides, the last thing my kind need is another pain in the arse child of yours running riot."

"You're boring me," Elizabeth complains, "Take the girl and get out of my sight."

Samantha holds back a comment and turns on her heels. Taking Hannah's wrist as she passes by her, they leave the office and make their way through the club to get to the front door. The blonde-haired security guard stares as they hastily step past him.

"Where are we going?" Hannah exclaims, "I thought you wanted to get rid of me?"

"Change of plan."


	6. Chapter 6

"_Hey, I've been trying to call you for hours but your mobile keeps going to answerphone and Rosie has done her usual and ignored the house phone. Call me when you get this x"_

Samantha reads her text from Gaspard as she flops herself onto the bed.

"But… my phone wasn't turned off… and it hasn't lost signal apart from when I was in the club and that was only an hour ago," Samantha speaks to herself, "Stupid phone company."

She presses the dial button and it rings a few times.

"Sam! Finally!" Gaspard exclaims.

"Hey, sorry, my phone is playing up," Samantha replies, "Are you at the airport? Do you want me to come and get you?"

"Mon chéri, I haven't even left Louisiana yet," he says.

"What? Why?" she asks, "I expected you to be back sometime tonight."

"Yeah," he sighs, "Well, surprise, surprise, there was a delay of a couple hours that became a few hours which then became much more than a few."

"So, when will you be home?"

"Tomorrow evening I hope."

"What are you going to do 'til then? Go to a hotel? You can't expect Robyn to come all the way back to collect you, by the sounds of it she has enough on her plate at the moment and Phillipe couldn't even drop you off in the first place."

"No, I think I'll stick around here, just in case by some miracle they manage to organise an earlier flight," Gaspard says, "Plus, I can do some more duty free shopping."

"Oh, please," Samantha rolls her eyes, "You've probably already bought enough cigarettes to last you an entire year."

He laughs. Samantha has always liked his laugh. His smoking hasn't yet caused his voice to become hoarse or strained and she hopes he will quit before it does. She couldn't count the number of times he has said he will stop.

"Don't worry, I didn't go wild," the smile on his face could be heard in his speech, "Plus, I said to you that I would cut down."

"I know," Samantha replies.

"On another note, how was your little trip to Crucifix?"

"I can't say it was the most fun I've had in my life but it was certainly interesting. I came out of it alive; I have bruises coming up on my neck where Elizabeth nearly strangled me and also discovered quite how much practice some vampires have had in regards to coming up with creative insults for our kind, but I think it went well."

"She tried to choke you? Shit, Sam, I'm so…."

"Don't apologise. I knew she was going to restrain me as soon as she found out who I was. I'm just glad it wasn't silver. It's fine as long as you promise to kiss it better when you come home."

"I'll do more than just kiss you," Gaspard murmurs, lowering his voice so the surrounding people aren't able to overhear him.

"I look forward to it," Samantha giggles, "Anyway! I have an explanation for Hannah. Apparently her maker is some delinquent progeny of Elizabeth's that went astray a while ago. Her name is Nancy and she creates new vampires and leaves as soon as the process is complete. Even Elizabeth is genuinely ashamed of her and wants to punish her so I made a deal."

"Please, tell me you didn't give her permission to search our territory," Gaspard groans.

"Yes, Gaspard, that's exactly what I did. I'm so incredibly thick that I told her she was welcome anytime," Samantha snaps, "Have a bit more faith in me than that, asshole!"

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he apologises, "Continue."

"Yeah, you better be sorry for that one!" she scowls, "I made a deal that if we find Nancy, we will hand her over to Elizabeth. I thought it would be a win-win situation; we get rid of the problem and she gets to sort out hers."

"So neither party has to feel like they're being forced to cooperate," Gaspard replies, "I'm proud of you. You made the right decision for the pack."

"I tried to put myself in your shoes," Samantha says.

"I never realised you were a fan of loafers," he teases.

"Your jokes are crap. Oh, yeah, I may have, um, done something a tad out of character as well but I swear it was for a good reason," she winces.

"Uh oh, I don't like the sound of this."

"Please, just hear me out."

"Sam, what did you do?"

"There's a slight possibility that I didn't quite solve the entire problem and came home with more than I intended."

"You brought the girl back with you, didn't you?"

"Maybe… yes."

"God, help me. And you did this, why?"

"Please, don't be angry. I found out that those vampires giving the other packs trouble are Elizabeth's grandchildren and I thought it would be better to find somewhere else for her instead of handing her over to the embodiment of corruption!"

Gaspard sighs. Samantha knows that this is probably the last thing he needs to hear and panics about her decision. His trust in her is clearly about to be crushed into oblivion.

"You're telling me that I now have to deal with three women in our house?" he says.

"You're not angry?" she asks, surprised at how calm he sounds.

"I'm furious. I'm returning to a house with so much oestrogen it might kill me, send to into the loony bin or just take over and turn me into a woman altogether; which is almost the same as being sent to the loony bin!" he replies.

"You can be so charming sometimes. Perhaps it will. You're already starting to turn into a drama queen and you're not even back in the country yet," Samantha says.

"Sam."

"Sorry! What do you want me to do? I can't take her back now; Elizabeth said it was a one-time offer."

"Fuck sake. Alright, we'll just have to find a way to make this work."

"Maybe we could use her to our advantage. She's a vampire; they're strong, they're fast, their senses can almost match ours and she might have the ability to sense her maker. All we have to do is help her hone in on her natural skills and we've got ourselves a fanger we can trust."

"All we have to do? No, Sam. All you have to do. You can teach her."

"How do you expect me to do that? I can play Alpha when you're not here but playing maker is a whole different story."

"Oh, and I know everything about how to raise a vampire?"

"Ok, fine, I get it. I'll… improvise. If she turns savage, I'll stake her."

"And every time you're on your time of the month, I'll hit you with a baseball bat. You're not staking her!"

"Gaspard, please, just help me out here," Samantha cries.

Gaspard pauses for a moment to think before speaking, "Look, I can see where you're coming from when you say that trying to keep her on our side is a good idea. I agree with you; it could turn out well for both us and her. I also understand that you're not this girl's biggest fan but, if you really need something to help you in dealing with her, try and remember that four years ago you weren't so different from how she is right now."

Samantha is taken aback by the words her boyfriend has uttered. He's right. From the very second she met Hannah she has been nothing but rude and harsh to her, but regardless of how different they are in the sense of where they have come from, the current situation Hannah is in has an uncanny similarity to Samantha's previous one. A memory of her younger self works its way into her thoughts; terrified and lost in the middle of the woods, cowering before someone she thought was going to end her life.

"_Please, please, don't kill me."_

"_I'm not going to harm you. What are you doing here?"_

"_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know this was your territory. I'll leave straight away, I promise. Just, please, don't kill me."_

"Sam? Are you ok?" Gaspard asks, sounding worried.

"Yes, sorry, I drifted off a little bit," Samantha apologises.

"Ok," he replies, sounding unconvinced and worried, "I need to go now, otherwise my battery is going to die and I need it to call you when I get back to London."

"That's fine," she says, "I love you. I miss you."

"I love you too."

There is complete silence in the bedroom as the phone disconnects. Samantha sighs and gets up to undress. She feels much better as she removes everything but her knickers and wraps herself in one of Gaspard's button-up shirts. She sits back down on the edge of the bed and massages her feet which are sore from the high heels.

She doesn't know whether she is angry or upset about Gaspard bringing up her past. Perhaps she is a bit of both. She isn't ashamed of it by any means but it still hurt her to think about it; just the memory of it makes her feel as though someone is driving a knife through her heart. No, she isn't angry. Just sad; sad for herself, sad that Gaspard isn't here to hold her, sad for Hannah.

As she settles down under her duvet, she grabs the pillow that her boyfriend's head would normally be laying on and hugs it close to her body. A few tears falling sideways onto the bed as she closes her eyes.

XXXXXXXXXX

Downstairs, Hannah is sitting on the step that leads up onto the veranda at the front of the bungalow. Samantha has left her the key to get back in and had told her to make sure to put herself back in the basement before dawn.

She stares at the sky, counting the stars overhead. This is the only sky she is ever going to see from now on. On such a clear, cloudless night, she wonders if it can really be so bad spending the rest of her life like this. Then again, her life no longer has a limit, forever is a long time.

She sees something moving in the corner of her eye; a cat. This cat looks identical to the one that was hissing and spitting at her in the hallway before turning into a young girl. Samantha had called her Rosie. Maybe this was her.

"Hello," Hannah says, as the cat walks up to her.

The cat doesn't reply nor turn into a girl.

"Look, I know we didn't get off on the right foot but Samantha says that I'm going to be staying with you both for a while. I think it would be a good idea for us to start over, get to know each other properly," she suggests.

The cat sits down in front of Hannah and meows, staring blankly at her.

"Oh, what's the point, you hate me and we both know it," Hannah sighs, "I guess I'll just stay out of your way."

Hannah pulls her knees to her body, rests her chin on them and closes her eyes. She hears the cat running past her, leaving her alone once again.

Suddenly, there is the sound of quiet footsteps behind her. It must be Samantha coming to tell her to get into the house. It wasn't coming up to dawn yet but maybe she doesn't trust Hannah to manage herself. She keeps her eyes closed, waiting to be spoken to before she moves. The footsteps get closer until they are standing beside her on the step.

"You know, I don't think cats can understand human speech."

This voice, though female, doesn't belong to Samantha. Hannah opens her eyes and is surprised to find Rosie. She is a slim, pretty girl with pale skin and long brown hair, a similar length to Samantha's. Her almond-shaped eyes are emerald green and her full lips portray would could be considered a slight smile. She sits down next to Hannah.

"But that cat can. That was you," Hannah states.

"No, that wasn't me. If it was then I wouldn't have clothes on right now. I'm stark naked before and after I shift, same as Sam," Rosie replies.

"Then… who was that?"

"That was Kitty."

"And Kitty is just a cat? Why does she look just like you then?"

"Actually, I look just like her. I have to see an animal to be able to shift into it. I'm not animal specific like werewolves are. I can become any animal I want providing I physically observe it first."

Hannah raises her eyebrows in surprise. Two days ago she would never have imagined she would be a vampire be sitting outside a house owned by a werewolf talking to a girl who can turn into any animal in the world with the added knowledge that she now has a whole new family bonded to her by vampire blood.

"Well, I feel incredibly stupid now," Hannah laughs, "I was practically talking to myself."

"You are incredibly stupid. If you weren't then you wouldn't be here right now," Rosie replies.

"No, I wouldn't. But I can't say I would rather be at home," Hannah sighs.

"I'm not really interested in hearing your sob story just yet," Rosie says, leaning back on her elbows, "But I did hear what you said to the cat."

"And you think it's an idiotic thing to suggest because I am 'little miss anti-sunshine' and you would rather lock me out and watch what happens to me when the sun comes up because you hate my guts?"

"I don't hate you. I just don't like you. But, though it pains me to say it, you're probably right. Sam isn't going to stand for us being at each other's throats, which even I don't want considering you've got that big set of fangs hiding in your mouth, and Gaspard will most definitely not tolerate conflict in the house. So, I guess I can put aside my previous judgements and give you a chance to prove to me you're not just another nasty, little fanger."

"Thank you," Hannah says, smiling at Rosie.

Rosie returns the smile and lies down fully on the veranda. Hannah mimics her and they both lay side by side, watching the sky. Rosie thinks about what Hannah had said, that she isn't sure if she would rather be at home, and ponders over what might be the reason for her doubting that still being human would be a bad thing. She wonders if Hannah's story is similar to her own.

XXXXXXXXXX

At nine o'clock the next evening, the door of the basement is flung open and Samantha's voice echoes down through the hatch.

"Hannah! Get up here!"

Hannah jolts awake and panics, trying to think what she might have done that she would be being shouted at for. Did she forget to lock the door? Did she knock something over when she shut the hatch last night? She gets up off of the camp bed which Samantha had set up for her after they had returned from Crucifix and rushes up the ladder.

Once she reaches the top, she discovers Samantha standing in front of her, holding out a yellow summer dress. It's her summer dress, the one she had been wearing the night she met Samantha in the woods, only now it isn't broken and covered in dirt, it's clean and the strap has been fixed as well as the tears.

"Oh! Thank you!" Hannah exclaims.

"It's not perfect but it will do," Samantha says.

"Will do for what?" Hannah asks.

"We're going out," Samantha explains, "I'm taking you to the pub I work at. We're going to start over. Rosie told me this morning that you two are going to attempt not to kill each other and now it's time we straightened things out too."

"Ok," Hannah says, feeling slightly overwhelmed.

Samantha sighs, "I know I've been giving off a lot of mixed signals but it's been brought to my attention that I really should have given you some slack on the whole vampire issue. I should have been nicer to you when I found out that you weren't knowingly trespassing on our territory and I apologise. But let's wipe the slate clean, yeah?"

"Sure," Hannah replies.

"Great! Now go get dressed and meet me in the car," Samantha smiles.

As Hannah walks up the stairs and into the bathroom, she can't stop smiling. Things are starting to look up. She might actually be treated somewhat equally and for once in her life feel welcome.

Ten minutes later, she leaves the house, wearing a pair of Rosie's sandals because she doesn't have any shoes of her own. As she hops into the passenger seat, Samantha starts up the engine and backs out of the driveway.

"Off to Loup-Garou we go."


	7. Chapter 7

Loup-Garou looks like any other normal, human pub. A bar lined with high stools and seating areas that accommodate for both people who are dining and people who are meeting their friends for a drink after a long day. There are a few small groups of people already present; laughing and joking with each other, but otherwise it's quite quiet.

"So, this is where you work?" Hannah asks.

"Yep, I have done for almost three years now. The money is good and a lot of my friends come here, so I enjoy it," Samantha replies, taking a seat on one of the plush sofas.

"So, it's like you're social life as well?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Um, what does Loup-Garou actually mean?"

"It's the French word for werewolf."

"That's a coincidence! You work in a pub called 'Werewolf' and you are a…," Hannah claps her hands over her mouth before she finishes her sentence.

"Um, what's wrong?" Samantha questions.

"I nearly said that you were a werewolf out loud," Hannah whispers.

"You're such a dick. It's not a coincidence, this is genuinely a werewolf pub; everyone here, both employees and customers, are werewolves," Samantha explains.

"Are you serious? I think my brain might explode from the amount of information from the last few days trying to squeeze itself in; vampire nightclubs and werewolf pubs in the outskirts of London, who would have known?" Hannah whines.

"It's not exactly the biggest brain in the world, sweetheart," Samantha reassures her, "I'm going to grab a drink, I would offer you one but they don't sell Tru Blood here."

"That's ok," Hannah sighs, wishing she could have a strawberry and lime Kopperberg.

Samantha walks up to the bar and is approached by a tall, slim man with short, brown hair and a goatee that circles his mouth and chin.

"Oh, look who it is," he smiles.

"Evening, Ian," Samantha smiles back.

"I hope you plan on making up for the hours you owe me," he says, "Even as a member of the same pack, as your boss I'm not supposed to allow my employees to have nights off without at least two weeks prior notice."

"It was important and you know it, but yes, I'll make it up to you. I'll work a weekend shift or something," she replies.

"Alright, what can I get you?"

"I'll just have a small vodka and coke, please."

"What about your new friend?"

"Um, we don't supply what she drinks."

Ian pauses with a glass in his hand and peers behind Samantha.

"You brought a vampire into my pub."

"It's ok; she's not a proper vampire. Well, she is, but she doesn't have a Maker. She hasn't been taught anything. Gaspard and I have taken her under our wing with the intention of making her werewolf friendly."

"Do I need to call the loony bin?" Ian asks.

"No, I think Gaspard has already made a reservation for himself," Samantha laughs, "Look, you've got nothing to worry about. Besides, her belt doesn't exactly go through all the loops in terms of brain power."

"I have no place questioning my Alpha or his second in command but, as a friend, I will continue to question your sanity until I see any proof of this actually working," Ian says.

"You're not the first to think we're both crazy this week," she replies.

"Just… make sure you keep a low profile, ok? You know what will happen if certain people find out about this," Ian warns, "Here's your vodka; one eighty."

"Take it off my paycheque," she says, "And don't worry, I wasn't planning on yelling about it."

Samantha returns to the sofa and sits opposite Hannah.

"Thanks for that," Hannah says.

"Thanks, for what?" Samantha asks.

"I'm not even wearing a belt! Am I really that bad?"

"Maybe not, but your manners are. You shouldn't be listening in. I was talking about you, not to you."

Before Hannah can reply, she notices that Samantha's attention has been drawn away. Turning around, she sees a group of people walk into the pub. There are seven of them; three women and four men. They are all dressed in tailored suits and expensive-looking dresses. As they pass where the two of them are sitting, the man walking at the head of the group turns to look at Samantha and sneers at her. Hannah hears a low growl emitting from Samantha's throat, looking as if daggers could fly out of her eyes at any moment. She doesn't speak until they are at a comfortable distance.

"That was a bit hostile. Who're they?" Hannah asks.

"They are the London pack," Samantha replies, one side of her lip curling in contempt. "That guy is their Alpha. They think they're superior to the other packs in every way because they've successfully kept their wolf identities a secret in a city with barely any places to run without the danger of being seen or caught."

"Surely that's something to be proud of."

"Yes, it is, but there's a difference between being proud and being an asshole. He uses his authority to belittle anyone with a lower status than himself. He is a disgrace to the title of Alpha."

"Are you an Alpha?"

"No, I'm a Beta wolf; second in command. But, if our Alpha isn't able to here, I take over and stand in for him. So, right now, I suppose I am Alpha. That is only until Gaspard is back in the area though."

"Isn't he your boyfriend?"

"Yes."

"That must be weird; a boyfriend who you have to obey orders from."

"After nearly four years I've learnt how to balance being both his equal and his inferior. When it comes to matters involving the pack, I have to follow him; his orders are given out to maintain our safety. He doesn't abuse his authority though. Outside of his Alpha role, when it's just he and I or the pack getting together as friends, he will be our equal. That's how it should be."

"That's awfully complicated so I'm just going to pretend I understand how your relationship works and change the subject. Will I die if I drink Kopperberg?"

"Sweetheart, you're already dead but, I think there's probably a reason why vamps only drink blood."

Hannah doesn't answer. She keeps forgetting that she is no longer a living organism. Her heart no longer beats and the rise and fall of her chest as air fills her lungs isn't truly needed but done out of habit. She's a walking corpse.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hannah spots someone moving towards the two of them from behind the sofa that Samantha is sitting on. It's the same man whom she had growled at. His brown hair is swept across is forehead to just above his eyebrows and his pale, blue eyes are fixed on Samantha. He wastes no time making his presence known as he casually sits himself on the arm of the sofa.

"Hey, Samantha, how's it going?" he smiles.

"What do you want, Nicholas?" Samantha replies bluntly.

"Oh, nothing much," he says, his voice suddenly changing to a less friendly tone, "I was just wondering why the fuck you've brought a fanger into our den."

Nicholas' gaze moves to Hannah, nothing but disgust plastered all over his face, making no effort to hold back his contempt for her.

"Well, you can wonder as much as you like but the fact of the matter is that it's none of your business," Samantha states.

"I think you'll find it is. I have the right to an explanation of why you feel that it's acceptable to bring this vile creature into my territory," he snarls.

"I think you're forgetting where your boundaries lie because, the last time I checked, regardless of being in the outskirts of London, this is neutral ground," she snaps, "So back off and return to your little posse."

Nicholas stands and looks down upon Samantha, "It seems that when Gaspard is away, his bitch will play."

"Shut your trap; before I shut it for you," Samantha growls.

"Now, now, that's really no way to talk to an Alpha, is it?" he laughs, "He may be strong but Gaspard's leadership skills are a joke. He should really think more thoroughly when choosing himself a Beta wolf."

"SHUT UP!" she bellows, jumping to her feet.

The pub goes quiet as heads turn to face the both of them. Samantha's eyes are glowing gold as she bares her teeth at the man in front of her.

"Oi, knock it off!" Ian shouts at them over the bar, "I'm not putting up with that! One or both of you, get out!"

"Don't worry, we're going," Samantha replies, "Come on, Hannah."

Samantha's eyes slowly return to their normal, dark brown as she grabs her bag off of the sofa and makes her way to the front door, bashing past Nicholas as she passes him. She breathes in deeply as they step outside, trying to let go of her frustration before it manifested into anger. Once satisfied that she's calmer, she continues walking with Hannah sticking close behind her.

"I'm sorry about that," she says, "I hoped for the evening to go a lot smoother and certainly last long enough for us to actually talk."

"That's ok," Hannah smiles, "I don't mind sitting in the house and talking; but can we stop off somewhere and get some Tru Blood. I'm so hungry I could eat… well, I can't eat but… I could drink a sumo wrestler."

"Where do you think you're going?" a voice shouts after the two of them.

Hannah and Samantha turn to face the direction of the voice; it's Nicholas. He looks infuriated as he comes at them; gold eyes shining like beacons, nostrils flared and fists clenched. Samantha stands her ground but Hannah takes a few steps back, dreading how this is going to end.

"We're leaving," Samantha answers.

"Oh, no you're not! I'm not done with you yet," he growls, grabbing a hold of Samantha's arm in a vice-like grip.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" she yells.

"I might think twice before picking a fight with Gaspard but there's nothing you can do to me as a stand-in. You can't hide behind your boyfriend this time and none of your pack are here to defend you; they're probably just as repulsed at the sight of you showing mercy to a piece of shit fanger as I am, let alone allowing it to stand among us as if an equal. Then again, even if they were here it wouldn't make a blind bit of difference; you're all pathetic."

"Walk away, Nicholas, before I make you regret it."

"Oh my, is that a threat? And what's the Chihuahua going to do to me; bite my ankles? You call yourself a wolf but you're a disgrace!"

"Don't talk to me about being a disgrace! You need to take a good look in the mirror before you start throwing insults. Gaspard is twice the Alpha you could ever hope to be!"

"You know what? Gaspard can go fuck himself. He should be put down like the dog he is."

In less than a second it becomes clear that Nicholas has gone a step too far as he is suddenly shoved with such great force he is flung across the passageway. Hannah gasps, shocked and horrified; Samantha had launched a man at least twice her weight, with what seems like no effort at all, a good seven metres from where he previously stood. Her eyes are aglow, pure rage clearly building up inside of her as animal-like sounds rumble in the back of her throat.

"How dare you!" she spits.

Nicholas rises off of the ground, not looking even the least bit phased by her actions. He smirks and laughs under his breath.

"The last time you assaulted me like that, your packmaster was very quick to step in and pull you away. What is it? Do you have problems with controlling yourself? Do you have a habit of getting yourself into fights you'll never win?"

Before she can answer, Samantha inhales sharply and freezes on the spot, almost as if she is terror-stricken. Hannah watches as her irises slowly turn black, leaving only a ring of gold around the pupils, and she starts hyperventilating.

"Sam, are you ok?" she asks.

Samantha doesn't respond but stares straight ahead, looking on the verge of a mental breakdown. Her attention is fully-focused on Nicholas; a menacing glare projecting nothing but hatred, her nose wrinkles as she bares her teeth, snarls and growls mixing in as her breathing slows and becomes heavy.

"Sam, please," Hannah begs, placing her hand on Samantha's forearm, "He isn't worth it."

Without warning, Samantha swings her other arm around, slamming the palm of her hand into Hannah's chest which sends her crashing into a wall behind a pile of rubbish bags.

"Temper, temper," Nicholas warns, waggling a finger at her.

His condescending smile quickly fades when he hears the cracking of bones as Samantha strains and whimpers in obvious pain. He watches her limbs begin to lengthen, the veins in her arms visibly pulsating as her clothes start to rip and tear. A thick layer of fur surfaces and covers her body; long claws burst through the front of her shoes and a bushy tail is revealed as the material that used to be her shorts drops to the floor.

"What the fuck," Nicholas breathes.

The creature that now stands before him resembles the beast described in almost every werewolf legend in existence and is neither human nor wolf, but a combination; body akin to that of an out of proportion human, holding herself up on two legs, but with all the defining features of a wolf. A snarl reveals fearfully large, sharp teeth that glisten with saliva.

Without warning, she lunges at Nicholas, arms outstretched with the intent of running him through with her razor-sharp claws. He dives out of the way and rolls across the concrete.

At this moment, the other members of the London pack come onto the scene, laughing and joking, but almost instantly, they are silenced by the sight of their Alpha cowering before a monstrosity. Too stunned and afraid to move, all they do is watch as Nicholas is set upon again by a frenzy of slashing claws; each endeavour getting closer to hitting its mark. The only person who takes any action is one of the pub waitresses, Jade, who is sneaking out for a cigarette. Her smoke break is cut short by what she sees. Turning on her heels, she goes sprinting back indoors to warn Ian. Seconds later, the bar owner rushes outside and stops dead in his tracks.

"Oh, shit," he gasps.

Meanwhile, Hannah digs her way out of the pile of rubbish bags, finally gaining her footing and pulling herself up. She looks at the scene of horror before her.

"Oh my God!" she cries, running towards Samantha

"You can't go over there," Ian shouts, grasping Hannah's arm.

"Someone has to stop her!" she yells.

"Charging over there isn't going to help anything; she's dangerous," he tells her, "She won't recognise any of us and you'll only end up getting yourself hurt, or worse."

"We can't just stand here! We have to do something!"

"Look, I know what she is; I've never seen before but the last time I'm aware of this happening, it didn't last very long. We just need to wait for her to calm down or wear herself out and hope that idiot can keep outrunning her."

"This is my fault."

"You certainly didn't help but Nicholas has always jumped at the chance to start on Sam; he clearly decided to take it to a whole new level this time."

Nicholas is becoming slower and more sluggish with his movements. Fatigue is taking over his body; but Samantha keeps on coming. Her jaws narrowly miss him as she hurls herself in his direction again. There is only one option for him; run. Using the last of his strength, he shifts into his wolf form, wasting no time with removing his clothes, and makes a dash for safety. He's too slow. As he leaps to get past, she clamps her jaws around his hind leg whilst he's in mid-air and swings around, catapulting him into a wall.

By the time he hits the floor, Nicholas is back in his human form, ripped clothes hanging off of him and blood pouring from his head and leg. He has no time to move before he feels the stabbing pain of sharp teeth sinking into the skin of his upper arm. The sound of his blood-curdling scream is sickening.

"You said she was going to turn back," Hannah whispers, "Why hasn't she turned back? You can't just let her eat someone! It'll kill them both! He'll die of blood loss and she'll die of mad wolf disease!"

Just as Nicholas feels he has no hope left, the sound of sprinting footfalls echo down the street and a loud voice shouts out.

"STOP!"


	8. Chapter 8

"Let him go."

The giant she-wolf growls, her victim's arm still in her mouth. She stares at the man standing in front of her; the shadows hide his face from view but he is tall with broad shoulders and has hair that's swept back and falls to the base of his neck.

"Help me, please!" Nicholas cries out.

"Shut up!" the man snarls, "Sam, let him go."

She continues to stare at him; unmoving.

"Who's he?" Hannah asks.

"He's someone who can actually do something," he says, then turns to the London packs, which are still huddled against the wall, "One of you, call an ambulance, now!"

Contradictory to Ian's statement, whilst keeping her eyes on the man before her, Samantha's teeth begin to tighten around Nicholas' arm. He whimpers and his face screws up in pain.

"SAM!"

Suddenly, the growling stops. There is complete and utter silence as everyone watches the savage beasts rage fade from her eyes and she relaxes her jaw. Nicholas' arm is released and he slumps to the floor. Samantha brings herself up to her full height, tilting her head back and letting out an almighty howl that rattles everyone's eardrums before gradually starting to transform again; her arms and legs shorten, the thick fur disappears and reveals the human skin beneath and her baying turns into screaming. Tears are streaming down her face as her naked body drops to the floor.

"Thank fuck for that!" Ian breathes, "Gaspard!"

He runs over to the man, leaving Hannah standing alone. She can't believe what she has just witnessed. Nicholas' pack rush over to their Alpha, telling him that an ambulance is on its way, whilst the other two walk over to Samantha, who has passed out on the concrete. Hannah snaps herself out of shock and makes her way over to them.

The tall man looks up as she approaches them. Now he is facing the light, Hannah can see that his faced is severely scarred; claw marks on his forehead, a gash running from his bottom lip to his chin and a long, curved scar that runs from his jaw all the way round to the bridge of his nose. He isn't ugly by any means but they make him look intimidating.

"You're Hannah?" he asks.

"Yes," she nods.

"Right, you're coming with me," he states, stooping down to pick Samantha up off of the ground.

Hannah knows who he is, she remembers the name from before; Gaspard is Samantha's boyfriend. She follows him all the way down the street to where a car is parked on the curb.

"Is she going to be ok?" she asks.

"She'll be fine," he responds, "Can you open the door for me?"

Hannah does as she is asked and moves aside for him to place Samantha in the back seat. He takes off his brown leather jacket and covers her body with it. Then he opens the front passenger door and gestures for Hannah to get in before moving round to the driver's seat.

The car is deathly quiet for most of the journey. Hannah is afraid to speak. She's afraid she is going to be blamed for everything.

"What happened?" Gaspard finally speaks, taking Hannah by surprise.

"I… I don't know," she answers, "She was arguing with that man and then she just went crazy; it was like something snapped and then she turned into that… whatever it was."

"This is just what I wanted to come home to," he sighs.

"I'm sorry!" Hannah cries, "It's because of me! He never would have done anything if I hadn't been there!"

Gaspard shakes his head, "He's been waiting years to get her completely alone so he can really push her to her limit. He had it coming; he knew she was going to attack him sooner or later but I don't think he bargained for a reaction like that. Maybe now he'll learn to shut that hole in his face."

Hannah doesn't say anything more. He may have had it coming, but she still feels guilty.

XXXXXXXXXX

_Samantha's eyes flutter open; the world around her is only a blur. A cold breeze sends a chill running down her body._

_Slowly, she sits herself up as everything begins to come into focus. The hard concrete beneath her is wet with rainwater. Looking around, she finds herself in a dimly lit alleyway; the puddles reflect the flickering of a light above a doorway which reveals dilapidated buildings with boarded-up doors and broken windows. Another draft of air bites at her naked skin, causing her to shiver and wrap her arms around her torso._

_Spotting a door that's slightly ajar, she stands, taking a moment to steady herself before making her way over. The lime green paint is peeling off and the handle is barely still attached, threatening to come off completely as Samantha pushes it open._

_Inside, she finds a bathroom covered in graffiti; ripped posters and the names of people who have previously been here coupled with the dates, toilet paper and flyers are strewn all over the tiled floor and there's stickers all over the toilet and sink. Samantha looks into a cracked mirror positioned above the sink. She sees the reflection of a young woman with long, wet hair that falls just below her breasts and dark circles around her eyes. She sees herself. But, someone is standing behind her; a tall man with longish brown hair and dark eyes that stare straight into her own bloodshot ones. She knows this man, but there's something missing from his familiarity._

"_Gaspard," she whispers, "Where are your scars?"_

"_You need to top fighting what's inside you," he says._

"_I can't."_

"_You won't."_

"_How am I supposed to accept something like her?"_

"_You do what you did with me."_

"_That's different. I love your scars. You're not you without your scars."_

"_And you're not you without yours. The only difference is that mine are visible."_

_Samantha shakes her head. How can he be saying this when he has worked so hard to help her lock away her demon? Is he expecting her to still visit and pet that monster through the bars? She spins around to speak to him face-to-face. He's not there._

"_I'll lose control if I stop pretending she doesn't exist," she says, looking around her, "I might lose my control over her entirely because can't see her. I can't keep an eye on her."_

_She turns back to the mirror and gasps. Gaspard is still standing behind her reflection but the scars on his face have now returned, but what shocks her is that she also has them, identical to his. She runs her fingers along the curved indent of the healed wound that curves across her cheek; an action she has done to him numerous times._

"_Does this make it easier?" he asks," If that was her, would you then be able to just accept that she's there and she's permanent?"_

"_It doesn't change anything. I'm still a monster; scars or no scars," she murmurs, looking down into the sink._

_She feels Gaspard's hand touch her shoulder but doesn't turn around because she knows he won't be there._

"_You're not the monster," he whispers to her._

_Samantha closes her eyes as he rubs the back of her shoulder with his thumb. But, she starts to notice a slight scratching sensation, as if a nail is running lightly over her skin and she realises that Gaspard isn't there anymore._

_Suddenly, a clawed hand grabs her face and turns her head. Mere centimetres from her are the sharp teeth of a wolf-like beast; eyes filled with fury and the smell of blood on its breath as it growls menacingly._

"_I am!" it roars._

_The walls of the bathroom burst into flames and Samantha screams as they engulf her._

Samantha jolts awake. A layer of cold sweat covers her forehead and her brain is pounding against the inside of her skull, almost as if she has been continuously smacking it into a brick wall. Sunlight coming in through the window hurts her eyes, causing her to squint, and there's a smell of smoke in the air; but it isn't from a fire. Slowly, she sits up.

Gaspard is sitting on the window sill; one of his legs is folded underneath him whilst the other is placed firmly on the floor. He has a cigarette in his hand and she watches as he slowly brings it up to his mouth to draw in the fumes.

"Good morning," she says.

"Good afternoon," he replies, turning his head to look at her.

Samantha looks over at the digital alarm clock on the other side of the bed. The time shows 15:17.

"Oh! So it is!" she exclaims, "When did you get back?"

"Last night," Gaspard responds.

"Wow that was blunt. Are you ok? And can you put that bloody thing out, please? I've asked you not to smoke in here! The bedroom stinks!"

He gets up and stubs out the cigarette in an ashtray on the chest of drawers beside him.

"No, I'm far from ok. Do you want to know why? Because I think you really should know, Sam."

"Why are you talking to me like that, Gaspard?"

"Because I have never, ever, been as angry with you in my entire life as I am right now; that's why."

Gaspard places his hands on the bed and leans forward, putting only centimetres between their faces. His intense, blue eyes stare straight into her worried, brown ones.

"Why are you angry?" she gulps.

"What happened last night, Sam?" he asks.

"I went to the pub with Hannah."

"Did you cross paths with anyone else whilst you were there?"

He doesn't break his gaze as he straightens himself and stands with his arms folded across his chest.

"Look, if you're referring to the argument I had with Nicholas, nothing happened. We exchanged a few heated words but that's all. I left straight afterwards," Samantha explains.

"Right, nothing happened," Gaspard laughs sarcastically, "Why does your head hurt, Sam?"

"I guess I drank more than I realised. Would you like to explain to me why I'm being interrogated?"

"So, you're telling me that you remember having more than one drink, leaving Loup-Garou and getting yourself and Hannah home without any problems at all?"

"I… um…," Samantha stutters, "No, I don't actually remember much past leaving the pub."

"Well, I can assure you, there are a few who will never be able to forget about it. I happen to be one of those people, because when I show up expecting to surprise my girlfriend, I never thought in a million years I would instead find myself having to stop her from ripping apart another wolf!"

Samantha's jaw drops. Gaspard says nothing; he just waits. She looks down at the floor, vague fragments of the night before suddenly returning to her. Nicholas' voices rings in her head.

"_Gaspard's leadership skills are a joke."_

"No," Samantha breathes, holding her head in her hands.

"_You're all pathetic. You're a disgrace! Gaspard can go fuck himself. He should be put down like the dog he is."_

"Yes," Gaspard states.

"Is he still alive?"

"Nicholas is in hospital as we speak."

"Shit."

"I trusted you to stand in as Alpha and you were doing so well, but last night… What were you thinking?"

"You make it sound like I did this on purpose!"

"I know it wasn't on purpose but you didn't do a very good job of keeping yourself together though, did you? After everything we went through to stop her from ruling your life and you managed to lose your control that quickly? All that hard work and you forget just stop for a moment and take a breath?"

"I didn't mean to," Samantha whispers, her eyes welling up with tears.

"It doesn't matter whether or not you meant to!" Gaspard bellows, "You almost killed Nicholas and it's because you let that gormless tosser get to you! You scared the shit out of me!"

"You weren't there. It wasn't just digs. You didn't hear some of the things he was saying; about me, about the pack, about you. He said that… he said you needed to be put down."

Samantha's last sentence is muffled as she buries her face into the duvet and starts to cry convulsively. Gaspard's outrage deteriorates, his arms drop to his sides and he sits himself down beside his girlfriend. He places a hand on her shoulder, feeling her body shudder as she takes in jagged breaths between sobs. He hates seeing her cry; especially right now, knowing he's brought it on. He feels guilty because he knows if anybody said anything like that to him about Samantha, he would definitely make them regret it.

"Sam."

"I'm sorry," she weeps, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"I know, mon chéri, I know," he sighs, wondering if he has been too harsh.

He moves closer to her and pulls her towards him. Samantha huddles herself under his arm and leans her head against his chest. The flow of tears has stopped but mascara from the night before is smudged all around her eyes.

"I don't want you to be scared of me," she sniffs.

"That's not what I meant when I said you scared the shit out of me," he reassures her, stroking her cheek with his thumb and gently rocking her, "I'm not scared of you; I'm scared for you. I don't want you to go back to how you were when we first met."

"I'll always be afraid of her though."

"Just try to remember that you're not a monster," he looks down and smiles at her, "But, you could possibly pass for a panda right now."

XXXXXXXXXX

At five o'clock, Rosie walks into the house. Gaspard and Samantha are curled up on the sofa watching television. She drops her bag on the floor and slumps onto an armchair.

"Hi," Samantha smiles, "You alright? You look knackered!"

"That's because I walked home," Rosie replies.

"You walked all the way from college?" Gaspard asks, "Why didn't you call? One of us would have picked you up."

"I wasn't sure whether the shouting would be over," Rosie says.

"It's over. I don't know if he's still mad at me," Samantha says, looking up at Gaspard, "Are you still mad at me?"

"Yep, but I don't like shouting, so I'm going to find a better way of expressing it," he replies, "I'm thinking of something along the lines of using cat food instead of minced meat the next time I make you spaghetti Bolognese."

"That's actually disgusting!" Rosie exclaims.

"Thank you," Gaspard laughs, "Came up with that one on my own."

"Since you're both in a better mood; I have something to ask you," Rosie grins.

"Oh dear," Samantha sighs, "What do you want?"

"Well," She begins, sitting up, "My 18th is coming up and all my friends have been having big house parties for theirs so… I was wondering if…"

"If there's a chance you can have the house for the night?" Samantha interrupts.

"Can I? Please?" she asks.

Samantha looks at Gaspard, who merely shrugs his shoulders, "Don't ask me."

"You're so helpful. I'm going to be evil if I say no, aren't I?"

"Yes," Rosie states.

Samantha rubs her temples with her thumb and forefinger before answering, "You better not make me regret this."

"Oh, thank you!" Rosie squeals.

"Two conditions," Samantha adds, "You clear up any mess afterwards and Gaspard and I stay here."

"What?" Rosie exclaims.

"Don't worry, we'll be upstairs."

"That's not fair! Gaspard, tell her it's not fair!" Rosie cries.

"Sorry Rosie, I'm with Sam on this one," he replies.

"Why? Don't you trust me?"

"It's not you we don't trust," Samantha explains, "We've only ever met two or three of your friends and there's clearly going to be more people than that in the house. I'd feel a lot more comfortable if we were here just in case something happens."

"Fine," Rosie sighs.

"Excellent," Samantha says, "Feel free to start planning then."

Rosie groans in frustration, stands up and snatches her bag off of the floor before making her way up the stairs.

"She'll get over it," Gaspard says.

"Yeah, I know," Samantha replies, propping herself up, "But I can't over the fact I just made us confined prisoners in our own house for an entire night."

"What a tragedy! How awful it'll be, being stuck in the bedroom with me all night."

"I know. I don't know if I can stand looking at your face for that long."

"Ouch."

"You love it."

"Yeah, you're so sexy when you're failing to insult me. Besides, it's not so bad, we have a lot of catching up to do," Gaspard smiles.

"Yes, we do," Samantha smiles back at him, "An unbelievable amount."

"Maybe we should start now," he suggests, leaning over and lightly kissing her shoulder.

"Hmm, I don't know," she teases, "You were very horrid to me earlier."

Gaspard laughs quietly against her soft skin as he continues to kiss her, slowly moving up to Samantha's neck where his lips linger, feeling her pulse rate quicken. She closes her eyes and exhales.

"I'll make it up to you," he whispers, his breath tickling her ear.

She turns her head to face him, their noses touching, and looks into his eyes. The eyes that look at her in the same way they had when he first found the courage to tell her how he felt; how he still does feel. Samantha cups his cheek with her free hand and runs her thumb down the scar on his chin.

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."


	9. Chapter 9

This chapter is devoted to one of my best friends - Singingfrogs. Her stories are nearly as awesome as she is :) enjoy your surprise, babe! 3

* * *

"What's the point in having full control of the TV if there's absolutely nothing on that I want to watch? Seriously, who sits up this late just to find out if they can get a bargain on some hideous jewellery?" Hannah sighs to herself, turning off the television and throwing the remote down beside her.

She's hungry, but there's no Tru Blood in the fridge and she doesn't particularly want to find out what human food does to vampires. She hasn't eaten since her and Samantha's trip to Crucifix. Just the thought of the warm liquid makes her hunger feel so much worse. She wishes that she could go out for a walk but Samantha has told her not to leave the house, explaining that only three of the six pack members are aware of her, making it a dangerous move. Hannah isn't sure how she is going to deal with living like this; she's been sitting here for barely fifteen minutes and already bored out of her mind.

Suddenly, Hannah hears the sound of loud, angry growling coming from Gaspard and Samantha's bedroom upstairs. If she had a heart rate, it would have just shot through the roof. Memories of the night before come rushing back; the blood splattered pavement, the yelps of pain and those furious black and gold eyes. Hannah panics. Anything could be happening; they could be arguing, they could be attacking each other or Samantha may have turned back into that fearsome creature.

Quickly and quietly, she sneaks up the stairs, being especially silent as she reaches the bedroom door. She prepares herself for the worst and looks through the keyhole. At the same moment that Hannah slaps her hand over her mouth and backs away, Rosie appears from the next room. She takes one look at Hannah's horrified face and knows that she is too late to rescue her. Catching her eye, Rosie puts her finger to her lips and indicates for them to go downstairs.

"You looked through the keyhole, didn't you?" she whispers as they reach the bottom of the staircase.

"I thought they were killing each other!" Hannah says, keeping her voice low.

"No, they're definitely not."

"I know that now! I don't think killing generally involves having your legs wrapped around the other person's waist like that!"

"I heard you walking up the stairs; I came out to stop you."

"Bit late now! I think that image is going to be burnt into my eyelids for the rest of my life."

"That's going to be an awfully long time for you."

Rosie walks over to the front door and grabs shoes and a cardigan which she puts on over her pyjamas. Opening the front door, she motions for Hannah to follow her. She reaches into her pocket and feels for her set of keys before she soundlessly shuts the door.

"Samantha told me I wasn't allowed to leave the house," Hannah says.

"Well, we're breaking the rules. Just because Sam has told you not to do something, it doesn't mean you have to listen. Anyway, you're with me so you should be fine. Consider me your babysitter," Rosie teases.

Hannah follows Rosie's lead as they walk through the woods at a slow pace, making sure to stay close to the perimeter.

"I'm guessing the reason you tried to stop me earlier is because you've made the same mistake that I did," Hannah speaks.

"Yep, it seriously put me off ever considering having a werewolf boyfriend, that's for sure," she replies.

"I'm not surprised. I mean, the amount of force he…" Hannah's sentence is cut short.

"Change of subject, please!" Rosie interrupts, "Why don't you care about your family?"

"What?"

"You said to me the other night that you weren't sure if you would rather be at home instead of being a vampire. Why?"

"I thought you said you didn't want to hear my story?"

"I didn't then. But I do now."

"Ok, well, I guess it's because I feel more alive now than I ever have before."

"That's a bit rich coming from a walking corpse but carry on."

"My parents are… were… really protective of me. I mean, I know that parents are meant to care about you, but they were extreme," Hannah explains, "It's like they bought super bubble-wrap and then double-layered it, so it was like obsessive, double-super-bubble protection."

"That must have made it difficult to walk," Rosie kids.

"Oh, no, I was allowed to walk," Hannah responds, completely missing the joke, "But I wasn't allowed to ride a bike… or go swimming… or play sports."

"Are you serious?" Rosie asks, "What about in school?"

"My mother wrote me notes for every P.E. lesson."

"Wow, I bet that made you stick out like a sore thumb. Then again, not knowing how to swim, you probably would have been handy for those life-saving courses they do. I'm assuming I'm correct in saying you don't know how to swim?"

"Yes, I don't know how to do a lot of things," Hannah sighs.

"Is thinking one of those things?" Rosie smirks.

Hannah furrows her brow in annoyance, "You're not very nice."

"Oh, come on, I'm just messing about. You're not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed but I'm sure you have some redeeming qualities," Rosie laughs, "So, what about your friends? If you can't play any sports then what do you do for fun?"

"My parents controlled who I spent time with. If they didn't like one of my school friends they would call up the teachers and get them to make sure I stayed away from that person," Hannah sighs, "By the end of senior school, I had no friends; my parents stopped letting me see anyone who became interested in make-up or boys."

"I take it boy mates were out of the question?" Rosie asks.

"I went to an all-girls school."

"What about when you went out? You must have crossed paths with at least a few boys."

"I wasn't allowed out. If I wanted to see my friends, they had to come to mine; otherwise I just wouldn't see them outside of school. My parents wanted to keep an eye on me as much as possible."

"I have to give your parents credit; they were very thorough. Though, what I want to know is, how did you end up wondering around the woods as a vampire if your parents are so ridiculously obsessed with keeping you away from danger?"

"I ran out after we had an argument. The house isn't far from the woods; my parents didn't want to live near a main road in case there was an accident. I just wanted a chance to show them I can take care of myself."

"Well, you really proved them wrong."

Hannah doesn't reply to this, she only looks down at her feet as they continue their slow pace through the woodland edge. Although Rosie's last comment had hurt a bit, she can't help but agree with her. Less than two hours on her own outside of home and she had managed to land in the clutches of a vampire. On the other hand, she has felt more in the last three days than in her whole life up until now; fear, excitement, relief, horror and, most of all, freedom. Fear and horror may not be the nicest of emotions but anything is better than the constant cheerlessness and monotony that she had before.

Hannah is suddenly pulled from her thoughts when she feels Rosie's hand take a hold of her wrist.

"We can't go any further than this," she says, "We'll be too close to the territorial border otherwise."

She tugs Hannah over to a fallen log and sits herself down on it.

Realising that, for the entire walk, Hannah has done nothing but answer questions and talk about her life. She dares to ask Rosie a few of her own queries

"What animals can you turn into that than a cat?" she questions.

"Um, a lot of different ones," Rosie replies, "A dog…"

"Oh! What species?" Hannah interrupts.

"You mean breed," Rosie corrects her, "And it's a border collie. Anyway, I can also turn into a moth, a rabbit and a…"

"Oh my God, you can turn into a rabbit? I love rabbits! They're so cute!" Hannah exclaims.

"You know, when you ask a question, you should really let the person answer you," Rosie sighs.

"Sorry."

"It's ok. I suppose the other main one is an owl."

"You can fly?"

"That's generally what owls do."

"That's epic! I wish I was a shape-shifter. How do you become one?"

"You don't. It's genetic. With every shifter, including werewolves, at least one parent has to be a one. If one of your parents is human, there's a chance you won't inherit the genes and the same goes if you have two different types of shifter, like a werefox and a werewolf, you could turn out as either but not both."

"So your parents are shape-shifters?"

"One of them, yes. My biological father is."

"So, your Mum is human?"

"No."

"Ok, well, what is she?"

"I don't want to talk about this. We should get going."

The walk back to the house is quiet. Neither of the girls speaks. Hannah doesn't want to say anything more; afraid she might touch on another sensitive subject. Rosie is stuck in her own little world; thinking about her parents and fighting the battle between being angry and upset. The silence has almost become comfortable by the time they reach the house. Rosie, straight away, kicks off her shoes and heads upstairs.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you," Hannah apologises.

"It's alright, you didn't know," Rose replies.

"Where are they? Your parents, I mean," Hannah asks, deciding to take a chance with once last question.

"I don't know," Rosie shrugs her shoulders slightly, "And to be honest, I don't really care."

Hannah watches her walk upstairs and into her bedroom. She sighs unhappily as she lowers herself down the ladder into the basement.

XXXXXXXXXX

"_We've seen her face on countless magazine covers and we've heard her voice on the radio but now Louisiana's serenading sweetheart, Robyn Herveaux, is planning to take her career a step further by announcing a world tour for her new album 'The Darkness' scheduled to begin later this year, starting with the 02 in London, England._

_After shooting into the charts with her single 'Hallelujah', she's quickly gained an A-list celebrity status. But this down-to-Earth girl hasn't let fame get to her head, keeping the image of an ordinary girl with an extraordinary voice without feeling the need to involve herself in typical celebrity activities. No making a fool of herself in a nightclub for this good girl._

_Though she likes to keep her personal life on the down low, Robyn has been spotted in her hometown of Shreveport, Louisiana with an unidentified man; though it's been rumoured that 'tall, dark and handsome' has been replaced with 'tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed and gorgeous!" Though no incriminating photographs have been taken, this man is believed to be a vampire. If this proves to be the case, we might find that the sexy singleton has joined the ranks of equality, following in the footsteps of Rihanna and Katy Perry._

_Though many may frown upon this, seeing such a beloved role model show no discrimination could prove to help boost the world's thoughts on vampire and human relationships. As a supporter of the EVL, we give Robyn Herveaux big thumbs up from across the pond!"_

"Oh, no," Samantha says, "Have you seen this?"

She holds up the magazine she's reading, showing the page of concern to Gaspard.

"Even if I was wearing my glasses, I wouldn't be able to read that from here," he replies.

"It's Robyn; apparently she's going out with a vampire," Samantha laughs.

"Why is that funny?" he asks.

"Because it's bullshit," she responds, noting that Gaspard's expression doesn't change, "It is bullshit, right?"

"Robyn's a big girl, she can take care of herself," Gaspard says, "Besides, he seems alright."

"Oh, please, did you even meet him?"

"I said hello to him and he was polite enough to return the greeting."

"And you can tell from just that one exchange that he's not a danger to her?"

"Sam."

"What? I have a right to be worried! She never mentioned to me that this Eric bloke is a vampire!"

"Give her some credit; she's not stupid. And since when did you start judging people before you met them?"

"Fine," Samantha huffs, dropping the magazine down on the coffee table in front of her, "How are they all anyway?"

"They've got a lot on their plates; one of the local packs got wiped out," Gaspard explains, "No idea who or what did it, but my brother said he would keep me updated. You never know, it could be something with the potential to spread to us."

"Holy crap," she says in disbelief.

"Yeah," he sighs, "No offense to them but I'm glad I left when I did. I don't really fancy putting my life on the line when even my brother is too lazy to want to get involved."

"It takes talent to be lazy and an alpha. How did he achieve that one?" she asks.

"Phillipe has got himself a girlfriend; a nice, human girlfriend. Nice but distracting. He's basically left his beta in charge at the moment."

"Oh, I bet your dad's pleased about that."

"He doesn't know yet. My mother does though and apparently she's overjoyed."

Samantha rolls her eyes. Gaspard has always had a rocky relationship with his mother. She's human and ever since his parents split up, when he was quite young, she has never been too fond of werewolves. She was disappointed when both of her sons took after their dad and for years she tried to prevent them from choosing pack life. But, even a free agent craves the companionship of their own kind. Samantha hasn't met Gaspard's mother but she knows that as soon as he turned eighteen, he moved to England to live with his dad. She's not sure if she ever does want to meet her and he certainly doesn't want her to. She decides to change the subject.

"Were you going to go to Ikea sometime this year or are we going to convert the basement as a New Year present for Hannah? Oh, and some headache tablets! And a pizza for dinner tonight; I can't be bothered to cook."

"Christ, woman, I'm going!" Gaspard exclaims, grabbing his car keys.

"Do us a favour on your way back, please?" Sam calls, grinning widely at him when he turns his head towards her, "Can you pick up a few packs of Tru Blood? Hannah needs to eat."

Gaspard sighs, "Anything else?"

"Cocaine and a pet tortoise."

He laughs as he shuts the door behind him.

XXXXXXXXXX

Hannah is still in the basement a few hours after sunset. No one in the house wants to disturb her.

"She must be really tired," Rosie says.

"Hmm," Samantha replies, looking over at her, "Maybe it has something to do with her being out most of the night."

"What?"

"You left the door unlocked, Rosie," Gaspard smiles.

"Crap, sorry."

"Please, don't let her out again. She probably was, and still is hungry, and whilst she is still disgusted at the idea of drinking blood from a human being, she is also very unpredictable as a new-born," Samantha explains.

Before Rosie can answer, there's a loud knock at the front door.


	10. Chapter 10

"Good evening."

"Oh, you just made the biggest mistake of your undead life by knocking on my door."

Upon opening the front door, Samantha has found herself looking at the familiar face of the blonde-haired security guard from Crucifix, the vampire nightclub.

"Please, just give me a chance to explain myself," he gulps.

"Explain what? Why you're literally standing on death's doorstep? This'll be interesting," Samantha scoffs, folding her arms across her chest.

"I have no intention of causing any trouble."

"I seriously wouldn't advise that even if it is your reason for being here."

"I am simply here to call upon the young lady who accompanied you on the night you infiltrated Crucifix."

"Oh, I see. That's what you're here for, is it? Any chance Elizabeth has something to do with this?"

"You have my sincerest apologies for trespassing in your territory, but you must know that Elizabeth is unaware that I am here," he explains, "I have no ties to her other than recognising her authority. Though, I can assure you, I am not particularly fond of her as she is the reason I am currently unemployed; I was dismissed as a doorman for my lack of observation."

"Boohoo, pretty boy. You were no good at it anyway; you couldn't scare a wererat," Samantha laughs, "And if you're implying that I'm part of the reason you got sacked then you can fuck off. In fact, you can fuck off anyway. Hannah's not interested and I'm far too tired to deal with this, so get out of our territory before I change my mind and rip you to shreds."

"Very well," he replies, "But, perhaps, could you let Hannah know that I wish to see her again? My name is Alec; if she wants to know."

Samantha slams the door in the young man's face.

"Fucking vampires!" she yells.

Hannah is perched on the edge of the open trap door. She watches Samantha massage her own temples with her fingers and groan loudly.

"Whatever I did, I didn't do it," Hannah says, "And if I did then it was an accident."

"No, it's not you," Samantha sighs.

"It's not? Hooray!" she exclaims, "Hang on; if it wasn't me, then who…"

"Who was that?" Rosie calls from the top of the stairs.

"None of your business, Rosie," Samantha responds.

"Actually, I'm with Rosie on this one," Gaspard says, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen, "I would like to know who it was."

"He was fit!" Rosie shouts.

"I'm comfortable with my sexuality so I'll just go along with that one as well," Gaspard smiles.

"He was good-looking? I want to see!" Hannah squeals and runs over to the front window, "No one is there!"

"It was one of the, now unemployed, Crucifix security guard; the one we slipped past to get into the club. He thought it was a good idea to take the risk of facing the true death for the sake of seeing Hannah," Samantha explains.

"What?" Hannah cries, "And you sent him away?"

"Yes and he still had his head attached. Aren't I generous?" Samantha replies.

"He was a vampire? Ugh," Rosie huffs, walking back into her room, "I take back what I said about him before. I'm not a fangbanger."

"I think I just found the solution to that boyfriend of hers," Samantha smiles.

"Get him turned? That's going a bit far, don't you think?" Gaspard sighs, "Look, I know you don't trust Chris and you know that I don't either; I was his age once so I've got a pretty good idea of what goes on in his head every time he's with Rosie. But you can't go sticking your muzzle into her life because the only thing that will happen is she will push you further and further away."

"I wasn't being serious," Samantha huffs.

"Just leave it. We'll step in only if we have to and that will be a last resort."

"Why does she get to have a boyfriend and I don't?" Hannah scowls.

"Because I trust vampires even less," Samantha answers.

"Don't worry, Hannah, I'm not allowed a boyfriend either," Gaspard laughs and disappears back into the kitchen.

Samantha rolls her eyes at him, "Right, shift your backside. Gaspard is making the basement a bit more habitable for you so we're going to keep ourselves busy. Grab those."

As she walks past Hannah, she points to a folded pair of shorts and a plain t-shirt on the coffee table. Hannah raises an eyebrow at the clothes, wondering why she would need them. She takes them and follows Samantha out through the sliding glass doors at the side of the house and into the garden. Hannah steps onto the patio and looks around at the neatly cut grass, the tasteful wooden lounging chairs and charming flowerbeds that are in full bloom, all surrounded by tall hedges. The light from inside the house stretches out onto the lawn and Hannah watches as Samantha ties back her long, brown hair.

"Do you want me to put these on?" Hannah asks, holding up the clothes.

"No," Samantha replies sarcastically, "I want you to hang them out to dry for me."

"But they're not wet."

"For fuck's sake, Hannah! Just put the damn clothes on!"

Once Hannah has changed, she joins Samantha on the grass.

"So, what are we doing?"

"As a vampire, you possess the ability to run at incredible speed, lift weights that would crush even a professional body-builder and have reflexes that are unmatched by any human being. Seeing as you have no maker to teach you how to use these skills properly, it will instead be me."

"Are you going to teach me how to be a kung fu master? That would be awesome!"

"Um, no, let's just stick to the basics. You're not exactly Jackie Chan material and I'm not all that familiar with martial arts; I've never needed them."

The sound of soft footsteps draws Samantha's attention away from Hannah. Rosie walks out onto the patio, holding her laptop, and sits down on one of the chairs. She nonchalantly switches on the personal computer and leans back.

"Oh, don't mind me," she says, finally realising she is being stared at, "I won't disturb you. I'm just here for the entertainment."

"You're here to laugh at me?" Hannah asks, looking hurt.

"Actually, I'm here to laugh at Sam's attempt at being a teacher."

"And that's laughable?" Samantha frowns.

"Sam, you lose your temper every time Gaspard puts a CD back in, what you claim to be as, the wrong place," Rosie replies.

"It is wrong place!" Samantha exclaims, "They're in alphabetical order! That means Metallica doesn't go after Paolo Nutini; it goes before!"

"You put your CDs in alphabetical order?" Hannah interjects.

"Yeah, she does it with DVDs and books by author as well," Rosie smirks.

"Ha! What a freak!" Hannah laughs.

Suddenly, Samantha jumps towards Hannah, eyes glowing gold, and delivers a swift kick to her stomach. The impact causes her to double over in pain, losing her balance as she stumbles rearwards and landing heavily on her backside.

"Ouch," Rosie cringes.

"Ugh, what was that for?" Hannah cries.

"You should never let your guard down fully. You could be attacked at any moment so you must always be prepared," Samantha says, "And you deserved that for calling me a freak; don't ever do that again."

"I'm sorry," Hannah says, "Lesson learned."

Samantha walks up to her and offers her a hand, which Hannah gratefully takes. She winces as she is pulled up into a standing position. But, without warning, Samantha swings her foot round and takes Hannah's feet out from beneath her, bringing her crashing back down onto the grass. She stands over her and crouches down, wrapping her surprisingly strong fingers around Hannah's neck.

"Oh dear," she smiles, "We didn't quite grasp the entire lesson, did we?"

"You're squashing my throat!"

"Hannah, you're dead. You don't need to breath. But what you do need to do is pay more attention to what I tell you. I attacked you and you foolishly took my hand afterwards without giving it any forethought. Did you even momentarily think I might have been deceiving you?"

"Well, no, I just thought you were helping me."

Samantha stands up and backs away from Hannah, allowing her to stand on her own this time.

"Let me try and make this easier for you to understand," Samantha says, thoughtfully, "Ok, let's rewind and say that you hypothetically don't know me."

"What does hypothetically mean?" Hannah asks.

"It means you're pretending," Rosie calls over.

"Thank you, Rosie, I don't need your input," Samantha calls back before returning her focus to Hannah, "But, anyway, yes, we're pretending you don't know me."

"Ok," Hannah nods.

"If, for some reason, I walk up to you and kick you in the stomach, what would I be doing?"

"Trying to hurt me?"

"Good! Ok. Remembering that I'm a complete stranger to you, if I then come over and offer you my hand, would you take it?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Well, because you attacked me."

"Goodness gracious me, I see evidence of a brain!" Samantha exclaims, "So, going back to what happened a minute ago, why take my hand when I had already tried to hurt you?"

"I said that I wouldn't though," Hannah frowns in confusion.

"No, now we're talking about when you actually did take my hand after I kicked you," Samantha explains.

"Oh, I get it," Hannah smiles, "I took your hand because I thought you were helping me."

"Yes, we've established that. But what I want to know is why you thought that."

"Because I know you; you're not a stranger."

"Why should that make a difference? Are you telling me that you've never been hurt by someone you know before?"

"Yeah, but they were people that weren't nice to me from the start. You were mean to me when we first met but that's because you were angry, not because you just felt like being nasty and now we're fine."

"You don't think someone you know, who is nice to you, could be lying?"

"Um…"

"Hannah, you need to learn that some of the vilest people in life are very clever. They can draw you into a false sense of security before landing an attack. If you're not careful, that could cost you your life. Even me; you may know me, and know that the person standing in front of you right now isn't a real threat, but there's still a part of me that could kill you. Do you understand now?"

"So, you're saying I need to see everyone as a potential threat?"

"No, I'm just saying don't straight away assume that everyone around you is of good intentions."

"Ok. I'll try to remember that. I don't really fancy dying again."

"I can't imagine you would. Let's try this again, I'll move slower this time so you can see my attack coming and I want you to try and dodge it. Are you ready?"

Rosie pauses from creating her birthday event on Facebook and looks over the top of her computer in time to catch Hannah being volleyed across the grass again. She may poke fun at Samantha for having a short fuse on her temper before, but the truth is she's a fantastic teacher. Rosie, herself, has been taught basic self-defence, though she was never kicked across the lawn during any of her lessons with Samantha.

Rosie lets her mind drift into the past. During the last three years, Samantha has become the sister that she never had and, regardless of not being married, she considers Gaspard as a something similar to a brother-in-law. Though they have been strict at times, she knows it's only because they have her safety and protection in mind; not like Hannah's parents who turned their daughter into a modern Cinderella but more like treating her as an apprentice, teaching her and handing down their knowledge but not allowing her to stray too far too quickly.

She wonders whether her own parents would have been similar and whether that similarity would be closer to how she is now, or closer to how Hannah used to live. Rosie finds it hard to gage something she has such a motley memory of. There was a time when both of her parents were very proud of her, but within an extremely short space of time, that all became nothing but disgust from her father and shame from her mother. None of it was her fault but she got the blame. That's why Samantha and Gaspard are so great; they have never judged her for it and she is sure that they never will.

Suddenly, Gaspard appears next to her, looking frustrated with a cigarette and lighter at the ready. Rosie looks at him, raising an eyebrow in question. He catches her stare as he takes a drag and shakes his head.

"I can't figure out the bloody instructions," he growls, smoke curling into the air as he speaks, "I hate Ikea furniture."

"I thought men are supposed to be good at D.I.Y.?" Rosie laughs.

"There are always exceptions to the rules. I am good at D.I.Y. providing Ikea isn't involved."

"Gaspard, are you seriously smoking right next to open double doors where the smell is going to go straight back into the house?" Samantha yells, "Move!"

"Make me!" Gaspard teases, smiling as he takes in another lungful. Though this smile doesn't last very long because Samantha starts walking back towards the house, leaving a grass-covered Hannah sprawled across the floor, eyes glowing gold with anger, "Ok, I'm moving!"

"Have you finished with the basement?" Samantha asks, reaching the patio.

"No," Gaspard replies, "I may as well have had no instructions. Even the English section looks like Swedish!"

"Oh, for crying out loud, what do you want me to do about it?" she cries, "Call in someone who speaks Swedish for you?"

"You could always get hold of Robyn's boyfriend," he suggests.

"What?" Samantha says.

"Eric; he's Swedish."

"And how would you know that? I thought you only said hello to him once!"

"I did, but, I'm good at recognising accents. No matter how hard you try, there'll always be a little something left."

"You're so full of shit."

"Ok, and I might have caught part of a conversation he had with Robyn where they were both speaking Swedish. And I know that Robyn isn't from Sweden so I put two and two together."

"I thought as much. You can't fool me that easily, sweetheart."

Samantha smirks at her boyfriend, knowing she had won against his ego. It isn't often that he took the stupid route of exaggeration in an effort to impress her, but when he did, she could always tell.

Taking her victory, she sashays past him and goes back into the house where she slumps onto the sofa. Hannah and Rosie follow behind her; Hannah immediately retires to the basement, mumbling something about being made to feel stupid and Rosie moves her things upstairs to continue her party planning, leaving the couple in peace.

Gaspard switches on the television and grabs the remote. A smartly dressed news reporter sits at a desk, reading out the day's important news. Neither of them normally paid much attention to what's going on in the human world but this particular story certainly caught their attention:

"The parents of nineteen year old Hannah Tamplin who disappeared almost four days ago, made an appeal today at a press conference for help in finding their missing daughter. They told reporters that Hannah had never before gone outside of their Chelmsford home without telling someone where she was going. Her mother, Claire, claims that ever since the vampires made themselves known to the public, their daughter refused to venture out after dark, for fear of attack, and that it was out of character for her to have left the house so late at night. The police are speculating the possibility of abduction, with the local vampires being their main suspects, and urge anyone with any possibly useful information to come forward."

"Shit," Samantha sighs, slapping her hand over her face and slouches on the sofa.

"I agree," Gaspard replies, sitting down next to her.

"What do we do about this?"

"I don't know."

"Fat lot of help you are."

"Well, sorry, it's not a hobby of mine to harbour missing teenagers whose parents have no idea that she's been turned into something they clearly don't like."

"You could at least suggest something!" Samantha cries.

"Ok, let me think," Gaspard sighs, leaning back and holding his chin thoughtfully.

"Come on, Einstein."

"We've got a few options; we keep Hannah here and continue as normal…"

"That won't work forever."

"We take her home and see how things go…"

"Oh, yes, that's a brilliant idea; let's set the baby vampire loose with a group of humans even though we have no idea how she will react to being around her natural food, regardless of relations to her."

"This is just a list of options; I'm not saying all of them are good. We could create some sort of runaway note and somehow get it into her house…"

"We're getting better."

"And that's all I have because suicide letters and ransom notes is taking it a bit far."

"Yeah," Samantha agrees, "Well, the person who knows her parents better than any of us is Hannah so maybe we should present her with the options we think might work and let her decide?"

"Sounds like a plan," Gaspard nods, "Do you know what else sounds like a plan?"

"No, what's that?"

"Sleep."


	11. Chapter 11

Gaspard's arm is slumped across Samantha's stomach in a lazy hug and his head rests on her shoulder. They had fallen asleep talking about getting the pack together; they all need to know about Hannah and Samantha agreed that she needs to do some apologising.

There's a loud clatter of metal hitting the floor. Samantha stirs from her sleep, her eyes flickering open. Another clang brings her to full alertness.

"Gaspard," she whispers, nudging him.

"What?" he answers groggily, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Listen," Samantha replies.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Hush, listen!"

Another clatter confirms the presence of someone or something outside the house.

"Ugh, it's just the foxes," Gaspard mumbles, curling his arm around her more tightly, "Leave them be."

"Can't you hear that?" Samantha growls, "Those aren't just foxes. Not unless they suddenly learnt how to speak."

She removes his arm and kicks the duvet back. Gaspard groans as she swings her legs out of the bed and puts her slippers on.

"Sam, are you serious?" he grumbles.

"Yes, I'm serious," Samantha frowns, pulling on her dressing gown.

"Come back to bed, mon chéri," Gaspard gripes, blindly reaching out his hand, "I'm cold."

"Oh, please, your blood runs just as hot as mine does. I am not having anyone rooting through our bins and making a fucking mess!" Samantha exclaims quietly, "Especially not werefoxes."

"Fine, whatever," Gaspard sighs, turning over and pulling the duvet up again.

Quietly, Samantha treads down the stairs and peeks out of the front window. From here she can see clearly; a man and a woman, completely naked, rooting through the metal bins at the end of the veranda. She frowns and moves towards the door, being careful not to make a sound.

"There's, like, nothing in here," whispers the female werefox, "Could you have picked a more useless house to go to?"

"Well, I'm sorry, I didn't know that one of the bins was going to be full of paper, did I?" her male partner replies.

"Keep your voice down, you idiot!" she hisses, glaring at him before continuing her rummage through the waste, "I don't know about you, but I can smell that we have something in common with the people living here. Whether they're just shape-shifters or werewolves or whatever, they're not human and quite frankly, I don't really want to find out which of those it is."

"Oh, come off it," he laughs, "Werewolves in Chelmsford, ha! It would take a lot of skill to hide an entire wolf pack out here and, let's be honest, they're not exactly known for having brains over brawn."

"Well, that's just rude," Samantha says, "I think you'll find that we've got plenty of brains to go with our brawn."

Both of the intruders turn their head around to find a young woman standing there, arms folded and glaring at them with golden eyes. To a person who knows nothing of werewolves, Samantha, in her human form, wouldn't be seen as any kind of threat. But the werefoxes know better. No matter how unassuming, a werewolf is capable of being vicious and merciless; even without a pack to back them up.

"Shit," the female werefox utters, taking a step back.

"Get the FUCK out of my dustbins and get the fuck off of my property, YOU FLEA-BITTEN SKANKS!" Samantha yells.

The two werefoxes, eyes wide with fear, hastily shift and, faster than a flash of lightning, run out through the hedges.

Satisfied that her job of scaring off the pests is done, Samantha walks over to the torn rubbish bags and sighs. Mess is one of the few things she truly hates; along with liars and people who are so far up their own backsides, they're in danger of turning inside out. So, regardless of the slowly rising sun, she begins to clear up.

Once everything has been put back in its rightful place, Samantha returns to the house and drags herself upstairs. She finds Gaspard, fast asleep and sprawled across the bed, leaving absolutely no room for her. She considers shoving him off but decides it's too much effort for the sake of a few more hours sleep. Instead she goes back down the stairs and puts the kettle on.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bleary eyed and yawning, Rosie enters the kitchen; fully dressed and pulling her bag along behind her. She finds Samantha with a cup of coffee and a newspaper, looking tired.

"Morning," Samantha says, glancing up.

"Morning," Rosie peers over Samantha's shoulder, "Anything interesting in there?"

"Not sure if I would call it interesting but listen to this: 'Police in the Chelmsford area discovered the sun-scorched body of a vampire, bound with silver chains and duct-taped to a tree, earlier this week. The identity of the vampire has been revealed to be Terry Lloyd, a twenty six-year old man who disappeared from Braintree two years ago. No suspects have been brought in for questioning yet but the incident is believed to be connected with a string of similar acts of violence against vampires. The friends and family of the deceased are unwilling to give any comment on the situation."

"Burned alive? Nasty," Rosie grimaces.

"Yeah, these extremists are becoming a lot braver," Samantha sighs, "It's eventually going to get to a point where the vamps will start to retaliate and that's not going to be pretty. From first impressions, Elizabeth will have no problem sending out her minions."

"Seems as though that Nan Flanagan woman on the TV hasn't made much progress with convincing people that vampires aren't something to hate," Rosie says.

"She most certainly isn't. I blame the way she words things sometimes; her comebacks are easily twisted. Then again, regardless of how pure her intentions are, there are plenty of vampires that don't care for her peace-making and they make that very clear."

"Did I tell you we have an anti-fanger club at college? They run around defacing the posters that the EVL supporters club put up. They keep putting the letter I in between the V and the L."

"That's mature."

"I need to get going because I'm meeting Chris at the bus stop so I'll see you later."

"Bye."

"Bye, Sam," Rosie calls as she goes to leave the house, "Oh! Bye, Gaspard!"

Samantha looks up as Gaspard makes an appearance in the kitchen doorway. His hair is messy and unkempt and his blue eyes squint in the sunlight coming in through the window. He tilts his head a little to look at her and wonders why he is being glared at.

"Did you sleep well?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, thanks," he replies, "You?"

"No, no I didn't," she says, "Generally you don't get a good night's sleep when you come back find you don't even have enough bed space left to curl up in."

Gaspard sighs and closes his eyes for a moment, "I didn't do that on purpose."

"I don't care. I'm still annoyed with you."

"Ok, I'll let you get on with that because it's your own fault for running off to yell at werefoxes. In the meantime, I'm going to contact the pack and arrange meeting up later."

Gaspard walks over to the kitchen counter opposite to where Samantha is sitting and unplugs his mobile from its charger. She downs the rest of her coffee and watches him as he puts it to his ear and runs his hand through his hair, standing with his back towards her. The long scars running down from his shoulders are much more prominent than those on his face. Though his facial scars are noticeable, they aren't unsightly, but these are the kind where you can tell just how deep the wound was and shudder at the thought of how much it must have hurt. They used to unnerve and fascinate her when they first got together, but now she finds a strange form of comfort in running her fingers along the irregular skin.

By the time he gets off the phone, Samantha's irritation has almost faded away completely. He walks around until he is standing behind the high stool she is sitting on, leans down and wraps his arms around her waist.

"Are you still angry with me?" he asks, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Yep," she lies, continuing to read her newspaper.

"Oh no," he says, sarcastically, "I don't know how I'm going to deal with that. It'll be a struggle but I think I'll live."

"Nice to know you feel bad," Samantha huffs, "So, what's the plan?"

"We're meeting up with the others this evening so we can all get up to date with our information and apologies; more specifically your apologies. Then, seeing as Ian is working tonight, we've decided to put a pack run on hold and go to the pub instead."

"Are you having a laugh?"

"No, I'm not. You can't avoid Loup-Garou forever because of what happened. I won't let you."

"We don't even know if Ian will accept my apology yet!"

"You know he will so stop making excuses. I can either tell you as your boyfriend or order you as your Alpha. It's your choice. Either way we're going."

"I hate you."

"I love you, too. So which is it going to be?"

"Fine, I'll go."

"Thank you," Gaspard smiles, placing a kiss on his girlfriend's shoulder, "Now, is there anything I can do to convince you to forgive me for kicking you out of bed?"

"Let me think," Samantha replies, pushing the stool away to stand up, "Um, yes, I think I'm going to go back to bed and…"

"And you want me to keep you company?"

"Actually, I want you to take this list and go to Sainsbury's. We're running out of food," Samantha grins as she holds out a piece of lined paper.

Gaspard frowns as he takes the paper from her and studies her neat handwriting. This isn't quite the answer he had been hoping for. He raises an eyebrow at Samantha as she shuffles out of the kitchen, leaving him alone. He promises himself that he will get her back for this.

XXXXXXXXXX

It is just ahead of opening time for Crucifix. Elizabeth lies across the sofa in Chloe's office with her feet up. Sarah sits on the arm, looking bored as she rests her elbow on her crossed leg and props her head up on the palm of her hand. An equally disinterested George stands next to his vampire sister.

"There's been a lot of talk about you recently, Elizabeth," Chloe says, not looking up from painting her long fingernails.

"And why's that?" Elizabeth asks.

"Some vampires are speculating; they think you're losing your touch," Chloe replies, "Handing over a new-born to the werewolves to do as they please with her? That didn't go unnoticed."

"I'd imagine it didn't," Elizabeth smirks, "And what do you make of it?"

"Well, I know you handed her over in an attempt to find Nancy but feel I should know you better than that by now," Chloe smiles, "I think there's more to it. I don't believe you would just let her go for the sake of avoiding an argument with a gang of mutts."

"My dear, sweet Chloe, you've never been so right!" Elizabeth cries, sitting up, "I have far bigger plans for this girl."

"Mind letting me in on those plans?"

"She's doing so much more than just acting as a one-man hunting party. I have left her in the midst of a world that we, as vampires, know barely anything about. I sent someone out to locate where she's being kept and I felt like a child at Christmas when I found out that she's living with the Alpha himself!"

"How is that anything like Christmas? Finding out that your granddaughter is being held prisoner by one of the strongest werewolves we've ever come across. Surely that's a bad thing."

"Not a prisoner, no. They're treating her as if she were one of their own; they're feeding her with Tru Blood, they're training her, they've given her a makeshift cubby. Give it another week and she'll practically be family!"

"Sorry, I'm still not following."

"They'll trust her, Chloe. Don't you see? They'll continue to teach her and make her a part of their lives. She'll gain knowledge about them that we could only ever dream of having; weaknesses beyond what we already know. Now, all we need to do is await the perfect time to offer her a place among her own kind."

"Do you think she will take you up on that?"

"Eventually, she will begin to crave the company of her own kind. She may make friends with the werewolves but, like a human can become tired having only the company of their pet dog, there is going to be a point where is just isn't enough anymore."

"So, if you get her back, then what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to take this county over. Once I have the information I need, I'll drive out every single werewolf. I have no care for the other supernatural beings. Shape-shifters, wiccans and the like have never caused a problem for us, but the wolves, they have always gotten in the way."

"We would be able to go wherever we please without fear of being killed for trespassing."

"That's exactly it! No boundaries."

"I hate to rain on your parade," Sarah speaks up, "But, what if she doesn't take the offer? She's being treated differently to how we would be so she's not going to feel the same hatred. She's never tasted human blood so she's not going to know what she's missing out on. These dogs are pretty much raising her so isn't there a chance of her seeing us as a different kind?"

"Yeah and what if the werewolves catch on to what you're planning?" George asks.

"Those are very good questions," Elizabeth agrees, "But, with age comes experience and, after 800 years, I am very experienced. I know every trick in the book about persuasion, I may as well have written the book myself. As for the werewolves, I let Gaspard's bitch take your sister on the assumption that she was something to keep and I neither wanted her back nor would allow them to try and give her back to me. I would be a fool to think of these wolves as nothing but a bunch of boneheaded cretins but no matter how suspicious they are of me, when the time is right, they won't know what hit them."


	12. Chapter 12

Rosie is slouched on the sofa, watching television. Her laptop is sitting next to her with a single word document open on the screen, but she isn't paying much attention to it.

"I'm sure that watching reruns of Friends episodes doesn't help with coursework; unless you're doing a media course, which you aren't," Samantha says, picking up the remote from the coffee table and turning off the TV.

"Actually, I've done all of my coursework. I'm just proof-reading it," Rosie replies, taking the remote from Samantha and switching the TV back on, "You look nice, where are you off to?"

Gaspard appears at the top of the stairs, buttoning up a light blue shirt as he walks down.

"We're going out for the night," he announces, "Can you keep an eye on Hannah for us, please?"

"Can I invite Chris over?" Rosie asks.

"Um, I would rather you didn't," Gaspard responds, grabbing his faux leather jacket.

"Why?"

"Because that's a guarantee that Hannah won't be looked after properly and we really don't need anyone else knowing about her. So, just keep it as you two tonight."

"Fine, I suppose I can't really leave her in the basement all night," Rosie sighs.

"Thank you," he says, "Sam, are we ready to go?"

"I'm all set," Samantha states, grabbing the car keys from the coffee table.

"Have fun!" Rosie calls after them.

XXXXXXXXXX

Gaspard and Samantha pull up outside a fifties-style diner called Hank's. The pack is seated inside, awaiting their arrival and, as they walk up to the table, they can see that not one of them has failed to turn up.

Imogen is the first to spot the couple entering the diner. She stands up and runs over to them, her long, blonde hair swishing around her shoulders.

"Sam!" she cries, embracing her friend and Beta wolf.

"Whoa! Careful Imogen, you nearly took me out," Samantha laughs.

"Sorry, it's just good to see you. I heard about what happened," she says, "Come! Sit down!"

Imogen takes Samantha's hand and drags her over to the table. Gaspard follows closely behind.

Including Gaspard and Samantha, there are seven pack members; Victoria is a curvy young woman with wavy, brown hair that falls to her shoulders and fashionable thick-rimmed glasses. She is sitting with Nathan, her boyfriend, who is counted but not officially a member of the pack yet; he has short, dark hair that's gelled into spikes. Opposite the two of them sits Ian and next to him is Lance.

"Gaspard, mate, it's been ages!" Lance says, standing up to give a standard man-hug, "How was the U.S.A.?"

"Not too bad, thanks, it's good to be back though," Gaspard replies.

Lance has been Gaspard's best friend since he moved out of his dad's house in Kent and came to live in Chelmsford. They first met at Loup-Garou, six years ago, when they were both free agents and have been like brothers ever since. Lance is a tall man with black, curly hair and a nose that's a little too big for his chiselled face.

"How's Phillipe?" Lance asks.

"Same as ever but, this time, he's all loved up with his new girlfriend," Gaspard answers.

"Oh, is that so? Is she werewolf? Human?"

"She's human."

"Oh dear, you don't even need to tell me what's going to happen now; you'll be getting several million phone calls from your mother trying to tell you that Phillipe has set a great example of how a relationship should be and how beneficial it would be for you to do the same thing."

"She can call as many times as she wants. All I have to do is get Sam to answer the phone and she hangs up straight away."

Lance laughs loudly, "Hasn't she realised that most of the time you do that on purpose?"

Whilst the Lance and Gaspard catch up with each other, Samantha speaks to the rest of the pack.

"Ian," she says, turning to the pub owner, "I am so sorry for what happened the other night. I know there's no excuse for what I did but…"

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," Ian smiles, "I've already forgiven you. Standing in as Alpha for the first time was a big job for you; you were under a lot of pressure without Nicholas winding you up. And, to be honest, I think some sick part of me is glad he finally got his arse kicked so badly. But then again, another part of me needed a new pair of boxers."

"Thank you," Samantha smiles back at him.

"You owe me some major hours behind the bar though," he reminds her, "I want you back on Monday night."

"Yeah, of course, no problem," Samantha agrees.

"Speaking of the pub; I need to get going!" Ian exclaims, looking at his watch. "See you lot later."

Ian leaps over the back of his chair, to avoid making anyone move from their seats, and leaves the diner. A few minutes later, they see his car drive around the corner in the direction of Loup-Garou.

"Guys," Gaspard speaks up, "Before anymore of you head off, Sam and I have a situation to discuss with you all."

"That sounds ominous," Victoria jokes.

"Don't worry, it's not horrific," Gaspard reassures, "It's just we've acquired a new addition to the household and she'll be staying with us for the foreseeable future."

"Who's 'she'?" Nathan asks.

"Her name's Hannah," Samantha replies, "She's a vampire."

"Hang on; did I just hear you right? You're saying that you have a vampire living with you… as a welcome guest?" Lance inquires.

"Yes," Samantha nods.

"Sam found her in our territory; new-born, no maker, no idea of where she was or what she was and a clear no threat," Gaspard explains.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Have you even taken this to Elizabeth?" Victoria questions.

"Of course we have. Look, we got all the answers we needed and it turns out that Elizabeth wants to get a hold of Hannah's maker just as much as we do; she broke our agreement and she's made herself quite a reputation within the vampire community as well," Samantha clarifies, "There's a low chance that she might come back for her new progeny, so we got Hannah in exchange for, if we find her, handing over her maker to the vampire authority instead of killing her on the spot."

"So, you're basically stuck babysitting?" Lance remarks.

"She's not that bad," Gaspard sighs.

"Surely she's going to be a handful though?" queries Victoria, "I mean, don't new-born vampires have all of those urges to drink from every person with a pulse that they come across?"

"Actually, she's not what we expected at all," Samantha answers, "I thought she was going to be like a loose cannon once she got over her initial fear but she's different. Not different in a way where we think that something might have gone wrong with her turning but as opposed to any other vampire we've come across. She has no apparent desire to drink blood, an incredible lack of fang usage and she can't glamour or use her new abilities properly."

"That's weird," Nathan says.

"Though very strange, in theory, there's a possible explanation for this," Victoria says, adjusting her glasses, "It's difficult to describe but it could be similar to teaching a child how to swim; you can't throw them in the deep end straight away and expect them to start doing the butterfly. You have to give them the basics and work up from there. So, without a maker, there would be no one to tell her how to be a vampire and she may not develop the normal behavioural characteristics because of that. But again, it's only a theory."

"We are teaching her," Gaspard speaks, "Well, Sam is teaching her. But we don't have much knowledge to teach her anything more than the basics of what we, ourselves, are able to do. We can't do much more than that other than encouraging her to find her own capabilities."

"Christ, you'll end up needing to re-plaster the walls if she can't control her speed!" Lance cries.

"We're training outside," Samantha adds.

"Irrespective of our historical opinions of having contact with vampires, I would very much like to meet this girl," Victoria states.

"Don't worry," Samantha smiles, "You will."

XXXXXXXXXX

Back at the house, Rosie and Hannah are playing Supernatural Cluedo. It took a while to explain the rules to the young vampire but she had eventually got the hang of it.

"Rosie," Hannah says, "If you stay the same after being turned into a vampire, if you needed a wee before you died, would you forever need a wee?"

Rosie takes a moment to think before answering, "I actually have no idea. But, from what I've been told, when you die, all of your muscles relax and you tend to let go of any waste product. I think it was the witch, in the graveyard, with a wooden stake."

"That's disgusting!" Hannah cries, "I'm so glad I didn't need to go to the toilet when I left my house."

"I really didn't need to know about how your bowels were before you were turned. Crap, I shouldn't have taken a chance," Rosie frowns, looking at the cards in the envelope, "It was on the stairs. You win."

"Epic, so this means I get first choice of what we watch?" Hannah asks.

"Yeah, whatever, go for it," Rosie sighs, standing up.

Hannah jumps up, switches on the television and leaps onto the sofa; remote in hand and a big grin plastered across her face. Rosie rolls her eyes; she has never seen anyone become so happy just from winning a board game. She begins to gather up the game pieces and put them back into their box, but a noise grabs her attention. For a moment she thinks that her mind might be playing tricks on her or maybe just the TV, until it happens again. It sounds vaguely like very light, rapid footsteps coming from outside.

"Rosie, are you okay?" Hannah questions after noticing that the shape-shifter has suddenly become very rigid.

Rosie looks at Hannah and puts her finger to her lips before whispering, "Can you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Turn the sound off for a moment."

Hannah mutes the television and concentrates. She can't hear anything except Rosie's soft breathing.

A knock on the door makes them both jump. Hannah rushes to hide behind the sofa; fearful of whom the unknown visitor might be. Without Samantha or Gaspard in the house, an unexpected guest is a lot more worrying. Rosie moves slowly towards the door. As she passes by the coats, she reaches into one of the jackets and produces a small penknife. She opens the door ever so slightly and, to her surprise, standing before her and looking anxious is the handsome vampire who had called upon Hannah a few nights ago. His expression becomes less panicky when he realises that the young woman who has answered the door isn't the werewolf he was expecting.

"What are you doing here?" Rosie frowns, still gripping the knife tightly.

"I apologise for intruding again," Alec says, "It is just that I must ask again if I may speak to Hannah."

Hannah hears her name being spoken and moves out from her hiding place. She leans and stands on tiptoes to try and look over Rosie's head and see who it is. Surely, it couldn't be the vampire boy that Samantha had threatened and sent away before; would he be so stupid as to risk facing her again?

"Go away," Rosie growls.

"Please, I just want…" Alec starts.

"I don't care what you want. Get out of my sight, you creep, or I swear I'll drive a stake right through you," Rosie hisses.

"You cannot keep her locked away forever," Alec says, calmly, "She will come across her own kind, sooner or later, and I believe it would be better if it were someone like me than any other member of our community."

"Are you trying to manipulate me? Trick me into letting you in?"

"No, if I desired manipulation I would glamour you. I am merely trying to help."

"We don't need your help. Help someone else."

"Very well, then," Alec sighs, looking disappointed as he turns away.

"Rosie, wait!" Hannah cries.

"And don't come back!" Rosie shouts, shutting the door.

"No! Rosie, why did you do that?" Hannah exclaims, "I want to talk to him!"

"Hannah, I can't let that happen. Sam would never trust me again," Rosie explains, "There are reasons she doesn't want that man going near you. People like him lie to you and try to corrupt you."

"People like him? A vampire, you mean?" Hannah says, angrily, "Funnily enough, Rosie, I'm a vampire. Is that what you think of me? You think I'm a liar too? Or do you think I'm going to be so easily brainwashed that I turn my back on you and become some monster of the night?"

"You know that's not what I meant," Rosie scowls.

"No, no, you just think I'm too stupid to do anything on my own without any of you getting involved. You're just like my parents!" Hannah yells.

At vampire speed, Hannah rushes to her trap door and disappears into the basement.

"Shit," Rosie sighs, covering her face with her hand.

XXXXXXXXXX

"See? I told you that everything was going to be fine and, look, you're not being glared," Gaspard smiles.

"Ok but there are still people looking at me," Samantha replies.

"That's because you're so beautiful," he says, placing a kiss on her forehead.

The atmosphere at Loup-Garou isn't drastically different to normal. There's no doubt that word of what occurred has gone around but it isn't in the nature of werewolves to pry into each other's lives so they respectfully ignore most gossip. When they get to the bar the boys break away from the group and move outside, leaving the girls with their drinks orders.

"Hey guys, how's it going?" a young woman says, walking up to the group and putting her arm around Samantha's shoulders.

"Charley!" Samantha exclaims.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," she winks.

Charley is tall with reddish-purple hair and is part of an all-female pack that resides in Kent. She is known for being a strong Beta wolf and quite an impressive fighter. However, she is a sociable girl and both of their packs have always gotten along well.

"We haven't seen you in ages," Imogen says.

"I know, right? I haven't been here in forever. It's been hectic few weeks," Charley explains, "It's all settled down now, though. But, a little bird in the form of my Alpha, told me that a certain someone gave Nicholas the beating of his life. Sam, you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"Oh dear," Samantha sighs, "How much do you know?"

"Only everything," Charley declares, "I never knew that all this time I have been talking to a walking legend. Please, high-five me? I fucking love you for doing that. He seriously needed someone to put kick the shit out of him. I so wish I was there."

"Ha, thank you for the appreciation," Samantha smiles, holding her hand up.

"No problem, babe," Charley grins.

Though there aren't many people in the pub garden, the small size of it makes it feel just as crowded as the inside. The air is filled with the smell of cigarette smoke and the sound of chatter.

"Initiation is next week, Nathan. Are you ready to run with the pack?" Gaspard asks, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Never felt readier," Nathan replies, lighting his own cigarette.

"I gather you've told Martin that you're joining us?" Gaspard says.

"Yep, he gave me his congratulations; said it was about time I left the 'bachelor pack'."

"He's right there, mate," Lance nods, "You've been with Vic for nearly two years. I'm surprised this hasn't already happened."

"Me too, if I'm honest," Nathan agrees, "I think I felt that if I switched packs, I would be abandoning the others."

"I can understand that," Gaspard says, "But, moving on and abandonment are two very different things."

"And it's not like you're suddenly going to ignore them and stop being friends," Lance smiles.

"Yeah, you're right," Nathan smiles, "Thanks."

The door into the garden swings open and Nicholas limps into view, his arm in a cast and a bandage covering the stitches in his head, followed by two male members of his pack; William and Clayton.

"I think it's time for me to be the bigger wolf," Gaspard grimaces, "Excuse me for a moment."

He moves past his friends and approaches the three men. William and Clayton spot Gaspard first as Nicholas' back is facing towards him. But, upon seeing the identical unimpressed yet worried expressions of his pack members, he turns around and comes face-to-face with his fellow packmaster.

"How are your injuries, Nicholas?" Gaspard asks, trying his best to sound sincere.

"I'm fine, unlike your reputation," Nicholas remarks.

"Oh, is that so? Enlighten me."

"Well, it must be quite damaging to your image; letting a female act out like that. Your girlfriend should be put in her place… or shot."

Nicholas' pack members smirk and snigger at the spiteful comment. But, this moment of amusement doesn't last very long as the mistake of seeing Gaspard's forced concern as weakness becomes very apparent when he slams his fist into Nicholas' gut. The others faces immediately drop in shock as their Alpha doubles over in pain. A few heads turn to watch what's going on. Clayton steps forward, ready to defend his packmaster.

"Don't even try it," Gaspard warns, not looking at the young man as he pulls Nicholas up by his shirt collar, eyes glowing with fury as he speaks to him, "I know you think you're hotter than fresh shit out of a horses arse but I shouldn't have to remind you that you are in the presence of Alphas who a much stronger than you and your whole pack put together; Alphas who really earned their titles. I saved you from being torn apart, you stuck up little shit, so I seriously suggest you think twice before throwing insults around again."

"Ok! Alright, I'm sorry!" Nicholas cries out.

Gaspard releases his grip on the shirt and drops Nicholas, who winces as he puts weight on his bad leg in order to steady himself. Lance and Nathan appear at Gaspard's side.

"Come on, mate," Lance beckons, "There's beer calling my name. You're wasting your time with these nob-ends."

Just before Gaspard follows his friends back into the pub, he leans down and looks Nicholas in the eye.

"You stay out of my way and there'll be no more problems. But if you continue to try and get smart with me, I'll do some damage you won't walk away from."


	13. Chapter 13

*One week later*

"Hannah, this isn't funny anymore," Rosie shouts, "Just give it back, it's not your turn!"

Gaspard leans against the kitchen doorframe, watching Rosie stand in the middle of the lounge with her arms folded and an angry expression on her face as a blurred figure flies across the room.

"It's nice that Hannah's learnt how to control her vampire speed, but you'd think she might have starting using it for something a little bit more productive," Samantha sighs, joining Gaspard in the doorway, "Making Rosie want to stake her in her sleep isn't exactly good practice."

"Ah, leave them to it," Gaspard says, "So what if they feel like they want to kill each other sometimes? It's nothing different to what two sisters would do to each other. You should…"

"I should know?" Samantha glowers before turning away from her boyfriend and moving back into the kitchen.

Gaspard mentally curses himself and sighs loudly, "Sam, are we seriously going to do this again?"

"Do what?" she asks.

Gaspard keeps his eyes on her as she starts unloading the dishwasher, refusing to meet his gaze even though he is standing barely a metre away from her.

"We've had this conversation so many times that I've lost count. Every time I say something that relates to the subject of you and your sister, you block me out as if I've purposely brought it up to upset you," he declares.

"That's not what I think."

"Then why are you giving me the silent treatment?"

"I'm not; I'm talking to you."

"No, you're not. You're giving me half-arsed answers and will carry on doing so until I give up trying to get anything out of you. Please work with me on this? Tell me what I need to do to stop this vicious cycle."

"Gaspard, there are very few things in this world that you are unable to give me, and that's one of the many reasons I love you, but this is one of those things that you can't do anything about. I don't mean to make you feel like you need to step on eggshells when it comes to the subject of my sister and what she did to me, but I still find it difficult to even think about it, let alone talk about."

"You've spoken to me about it before; you told me everything."

"I know," Samantha nods, finally looking up at him, "And it did help. But I find it so much easier just to shut down. It saves a lot of crying; I've done far too much of that."

Gaspard isn't sure how to answer. When he and Samantha first met, crying was something she did an awful lot of; she was an emotional wreck. But he would expect nothing less from someone who had been betrayed and driven out of her their home by the only family she had. The problem now is that she believes that it's ok for everyone but herself to cry. She resents it and considers herself to be weak for doesn't so.

"You shut me out too when you do that," he says, trying his best not to sound like he's guilt-tripping her.

"I'm sorry," she replies, placing her hand on his forearm, "I know I can be difficult sometimes."

"No comment," Gaspard smirks.

"I suppose I can try not to close down completely," Samantha says, "I don't want to make you feel like I'm pushing you away so I'll put the effort in but I can't guarantee anything."

"Thank you," Gaspard smiles.

He brings hand up to Samantha's arm and runs his fingertips over her shoulder, following all the way up to her jawline where he tenderly strokes her cheek. Samantha's arms reach up and find their way to the back of his neck, pulling Gaspard's face closer to hers as her fingers bury themselves in his thick hair. He cradles her cheek whilst his other hand runs up her spine, giving Samantha chills and pulling her into his arms, both of them closing their eyes as their lips press together. They linger for a minute before Samantha's greed gets the better of her and she grasps Gaspard's hair, drawing him in to deepen the kiss. His breathing becomes heavier as she gently bites his lower lip and smiles before crushing their mouths together again.

"AH! HELP ME! SHE'S KILLING ME!" Hannah shrieks from the living room.

Samantha groans angrily and pulls away from the kiss. She releases her grip on Gaspard's hair but as she turns to walk away, he tightens his hold on her and spins her back around.

"Stay," he insists, "They're fine."

He kisses Samantha's forehead, then her temple, and continues this pattern all the way down to her jaw. She giggles as his stubble tickles her skin. Unfortunately their fun is put to a stop again when they hear Hannah screams loudly.

"For fuck's sake," Samantha growls, removing Gaspard's arms and storming out of the kitchen, "I swear to all that is holy that if you're screaming over nothing then I'm going to…"

When she enters the lounge, she isn't quite sure how to react to what she sees. In front of her is a scene so bizarre that it could be out of a bad horror film. Rosie has somehow got a hold of Hannah and turned herself into a Boa Constrictor wrapping the young vampire's limbs in spirals of smooth scales.

"Sam! Please, get her off of me! I'm scared of snakes!" Hannah cries.

"Rosie!" Samantha yells, "Pack it in!"

The snake loosens its coils and slithers off of Hannah. As though shedding its skin, the reptile goes from having greenish-brown and black scales to smooth, pale skin. Rosie then picks up her dressing gown and the TV remote from the floor.

"Tactics will always triumph over speed," Rosie says to Hannah.

"I seriously don't remember signing up to be the mother of two teenage girls," Samantha murmurs, "Especially one that tries to strangle the other."

"You have to give her points for creativity though," Gaspard voices from behind Samantha, "And you're right, you didn't sign up to be their mother, but you did sign a paper that made you Rosie's legal guardian which is almost the same thing. But anyway, before I get a slap for correcting you, I'm going to get cigarettes and Tru Blood for Hannah."

"Ok, that's fine, you go and buy your sticks of death and I'll make sure Hannah works up an appetite," Samantha replies.

Gaspard steps over to Samantha after putting his shoes on and places a quick kiss on her lips as he grabs his keys. But, as he turns away, he shakes his head and pivots around and grabs the back of Samantha's neck, shoving their mouths together for a longer time before letting go.

"Much better," Gaspard nods.

"Yuk," Hannah grimaces.

When Gaspard leaves the house, Samantha walks up to where Hannah is still lying on the floor and leans over her, "I have a better use for your energies. Come."

Hannah jumps up and follows Samantha as she makes her way into the garden. As she passes by Rosie she pokes out her tongue and pulls a face; Rosie responds by sticking up her middle finger.

"Right," Samantha starts, "I think we've just about mastered your speed as far as being able to teach you myself but you still haven't got the hang of the proper fighting technique. You must learn how to defend yourself in the event of an attack and be able to counter that attack. An enemy will not give up purely because you dodged their first attempt at striking you; they will continue to try and wallop you one until they succeed. So unless you attain the ability to not only defend but immobilize your foe, then you're fucked."

"I don't like playing this game," Hannah whines.

"It's not a game, Hannah, I'm trying to help you," Samantha scowls, "Now, as normal, I'll make the first move and miss you on purpose; we'll take it from there."

Hannah nods and adjusts her stance in anticipation of Samantha's assault; legs apart, knees slightly bent and fists up. Her opponent adopts a similar position before sprinting forwards and thrusting her arm out, narrowly missing the Hannah's face. In response, Hannah rushes, at vampire speed, across the grass and taking the initiative to create her own strategy, she begins to flit around the garden in a blur in bid to confuse Samantha. Unfortunately for her, it doesn't take much time for the werewolf to figure out Hannah's plan and predicts the vampire's next move. She runs into the path of Hannah's next movement and sticks her foot out. Hannah realises all too late the trap she's fallen into and, as her own foot collides with Samantha's, she is sent flying through the tall hedges that surround the garden. Samantha instantly doubles over in a fit of laughter; so loud that it draws Rosie outside to see what's going on.

"What happened? What's so funny?" she asks.

"Holy shit, that was amazing!" Samantha cries.

"What was?"

"Hannah!"

"What about her? Where is she?"

Right on cue, Hannah reappears from the gap in the bushes from where she had exited with twigs in her hair and dirt on her face. Upon seeing her, Samantha's laughter becomes louder and more hysterical and Rosie can't help but join in.

"You're a bitch!" Hannah yells, pointing at Samantha.

"Thank you for noticing," Samantha giggles, clutching her stomach in an attempt to relieve the ache of laughing so hard.

"This isn't fair," Hannah whines, "Every time; every single time. How do you keep beating me?"

"You're too predictable," Samantha replies, finally standing up, "You had a good start but you kept it up for too long. Be less predictable and you might have a chance of catching me off guard."

Hannah thinks for a moment. What can she do to be less predictable? She needs to use her speed more effectively because running in circles isn't working. Running away is out of the question; this is supposed to teach her how to deal with situations where she can't run. But, how could she ever outdo someone with so much experience? Then it hits her and, once again using her speed, she rushes Samantha and shoves her palms into her chest, winding her and knocking her to the floor.

"Oh crap!" Rosie gasps.

Samantha sits up, looking dazed and breathing heavily. Looking up, she sees Hannah standing a few metres away with her arms folded and a smirk on her face.

"Better?" she asks.

"I'm impressed," Samantha wheezes, "But now it's on."

Steadily getting to her feet, Samantha inhales deeply and glares at Hannah. A part of the young vampire now fears for her life. She has never been able to strike so effectively before and she isn't sure whether part of the 'other Samantha's' power would be brought forward through frustration or anger.

"Sod watching television, this is going to be epic," Rosie mutters, sitting on the doorstep.

As Samantha starts running towards Hannah and she braces herself for a head-on attack. But, at the last second, she switches direction and unexpectedly comes at Hannah from the right and shoulders her in the side. She lands on the floor as Samantha rolls over her and crouches in order to spring forward with the intention of grabbing Hannah's arm before she gets up and rendering her incapacitated. Much to her surprise, as her fingers clasp together, there's nothing to take a hold of and instead her own wrist is captured and wrenched backwards. The blatant sound of snapping is heard and Samantha yelps in pain as she hits the grass.

"Ah, fuck!" she hisses, cradling her arm.

XXXXXXXXXX

Gaspard walks into the off licence feeling glad that the short drive has helped to take his mind off of Samantha and how he had started to feel before their fun was interrupted. He grabs two four-packs of Tru Blood and takes them to the cashier along with a twenty-pack of cigarettes.

"Pardon me, sir," a voice behind him says.

Gaspard turns around to find a tall, blond-haired man standing before him. He can tell that he is a vampire; he speaks in a manner that even the most gentlemanly of modern men couldn't achieve and he knows that there are very few people in Essex that would ever address him as 'sir'.

"Um, can I help you?" he asks.

"There's a possibility that you may be able to," the vampire says, "But then again this might also fall very flat. Thus far, it has done."

"I think you've got the wrong person. I don't know you," Gaspard frowns.

"You are aware of me but you've not seen me."

"Right, ok, now I'm even more confused."

"I've visited your establishment more than once and encountered two different young ladies each time. Neither of them was very welcoming, to say the least."

"Oh," Gaspard replies, "You wouldn't happen to be the vampire that popped up uninvited and asked to see Hannah would you?"

"Yes," Alec nods, "I know that was foolish of me."

"Foolish?" Gaspard exclaims, "Try absolutely idiotic instead. I'm guessing the other young lady you're talking about is Rosie? She didn't tell us you came back for round two but consider yourself extremely lucky because, even as an Alpha, I wouldn't have stopped Sam from getting her point across; especially to someone who clearly didn't listen the first time he was told to stay away."

"I understand that," Alec says.

"Then why do you keep doing it? Stop while you still can."

Gaspard walks past Alec and leaves the shop. But, determined to make one last effort, Alec follows and calls after him just as he opens the car door.

"I want to help you. Please, at very least, listen to me."

Gaspard stops and sighs. Now, if he doesn't listen, he will feel like an arsehole. He knows he is far too soft but he puts the bag of Tru Blood on the driver's seat and turns around.

"Ok, I'm all ears," he says, taking out a cigarette and lighting it, "You have until I finish this."

"Thank you," Alec breathes, composing himself, "I don't expect you to trust me right away, I am fully aware that I will have to prove myself but take heed when I say that I know what it's like to be a young vampire. Unlike Hannah, I had a maker who took their time to guide me in the right direction and that in turn taught me how important the advice and instruction of an experienced member of our own kind is. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I assume you have been passing knowledge on to Hannah whilst she has been under your dominion."

"We've been teaching her as much as we can, yes," Gaspard nods, taking another drag of his cigarette and inhaling deeply.

"And I also assume that you know as well as I do that very soon you will hit a barrier where you will no longer be able to help her progress," Alec adds, "She may become strong and agile but she still won't possess many of the unique vampire traits and skills; glamouring, how to feed upon live victims without fatal consequences. Then there's the case of her weaknesses that remain unknown to you."

"Well," Gaspard starts, "I'm halfway through my cigarette and so far you do have my attention but haven't done anything but point out where you think we'll fail. We already know about this so where to you plan to come in?"

"For the pleasure of being in Hannah's company, I will help to teach her how to truly be a vampire."

"Tempting offer but that's still putting a shitload of trust in you without being sure of your intentions."

"I promise that if you give me a chance and decide afterwards that I am not dependable then you may dismiss me and I shan't return again or else I shall expect nothing less than to be set upon by your pack."

"I'm guessing that you're maybe around a hundred?"

"One-hundred and sixty seven years."

"Wow, ok, then you should definitely know not to take werewolves for granted. If I let you go near Hannah and there is so much as a smidge of evidence that you are in any way corrupting her then I will personally make sure that you end up in as many pieces as you are years old," Gaspard warns.

"I do not doubt that," Alec gulps.

Gaspard considers Alec's offer whilst he finished his cigarette. On one hand, this could be beneficial for all of them; Hannah would be able to get out of the house and at the same time fill some important gaps in her life as a vampire. If Alec proves himself to be trustworthy, it makes life easier for everyone. On the other hand, this could go horribly wrong; bringing forth Hannah's vampiric instincts could be dangerous and if Alec turns out not to be trustworthy, would he do something to turn her on them? He makes his decision as he drops the end of his cigarette on the floor.

"What are you doing on Saturday night?" he asks.

"Nothing at all," Alec replies.

"Be as inconspicuous as possible and come to the house at half six," Gaspard says, "I need Hannah out that night. You can take her on a date and that's all. No training; glamouring and drinking anything, other than Tru Blood, are completely out of bounds."

"You have my word," Alec nods, "Thank you for this."

Gaspard gets into the car and drives off. He feels that he's made the right decision as far as Hannah is concerned, but he is now more worried that Samantha might murder him and hang his pelt on the wall for decoration for it. He decides not to mention anything for now. He seems to put himself on autopilot for the rest of the journey, too tired to do anything but follow the familiar route home. He finds the inside of the house empty as he steps in but picks up a commotion from the garden. However, it isn't the usual frustrated cursing from Hannah; it's a cry of pain.

"Ah, fuck!" he hears Samantha whimper.

Jogging to the back door, he finds Samantha kneeling on the grass and holding her arm, Rosie is sitting on the doorstep and Hannah standing a few feet away from Samantha with her hands clapped over her mouth.

"Sam!" Hannah cries.

"Sam, are you ok?" Rosie gasps, leaping up and running over.

"Yes, Rosie, I'm having a whale of a time," Samantha replies, sarcastically, "Oh, yeah, barring the fact I think my wrist just got snapped."

"Oh, shit!" Hannah exclaims, "Sam, I'm so sorry."

"I leave the house for half an hour and all hell breaks loose," Gaspard sighs as he walks over to the trio.

"Gaspard, thank goodness you're back!" Rosie breathes, standing up and moving aside as he crouches down next to Samantha.

"You ok, mon chéri?" he asks Samantha, putting his hand on her shoulder.

Samantha doesn't answer him, just nods, as she breathes slowly in through her nose and out through her mouth with her eyes closed.

"I didn't mean to do it that hard," Hannah says, blood tears welling up in her eyes, "Did I break it?"

"I don't know if it's actually broken," Samantha exhales, "I haven't checked. All I know is that it hurts."

"Ok, come on, get up and I'll have a look," Gaspard says, standing up and pulling his girlfriend up with him, "This is kind of what we were aiming for you to be able to do anyway, Hannah. Just class this as your graduation on basic fighting and stop freaking out. You should probably to ground before it gets light."

Hannah wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing blood across her face, and nods before running at vampire speed to hide away in the basement. Gaspard takes Samantha to the kitchen and sits her down while he inspects her wrist. She draws in a sharp breath as he turns her hand over.

"Definitely broken," he confirms, "I'll wrap it up for now to keep it in place. There's no point in going to see Doctor Coleman until tomorrow; I don't know if he will even be at the hospital right now and I don't think he would appreciate us turning up to his house in the early hours."

Samantha complains the whole time he bandages her wrist and threatens to hit him as he wraps it around the area of the break.

"I think I should congratulate Hannah on successfully incapacitating me," she laughs weakly before cringing, "Ouch! You absolute bastard, you did that on purpose!"

"I didn't! Don't be such a wuss!" he scolds, "So much for finishing what we started earlier. There you go, all done."

"Thanks," Samantha huffs.

Gaspard rolls his eyes, "You're going to be a joy all night."


	14. Chapter 14

"You did what?"

"Sam, please don't start."

"I can't believe you."

"There's nothing wrong with it. He might genuinely help us."

"And he might genuinely fuck us over."

Gaspard sighs. His plan of telling Samantha about the decision of letting Alec go near Hannah was never going to be smooth, but he has her in the right place to do so. Although she can have a bit of a hot temper, she would never start screaming and shouting in middle of the hospital waiting room.

"The pros and cons of this are very evenly matched and the way I see it, this will be how we tip the balance," he says, "Hannah may act like she's got a hollow skull sometimes but she's not stupid and she will know we'll be asking questions. I doubt we'll even have to dig very deep; Hannah will be so ecstatic that she'll tell us everything before we can get a word in edgeways."

"I don't think she's the stupid one right now," Samantha replies.

"You can't tell me that it's not a good idea," Gaspard responds, "It's unfair on Hannah to continue restricting her."

"You make it sound like we've caged her," Samantha argues, "She's allowed out; she's met the pack now, they recognise her, she's in no danger of being slaughtered inside our territory so she can roam it as she pleases."

"Yes but that's about the same as letting a twelve-year old walk to the shop to spend their pocket money. Even then, she generally tags along with Rosie when she goes for a run because she doesn't want to be on her own. She may not crave company in the same way a free agent would for a pack to belong to but she certainly could do with a friend who can give her some of the things we can't."

"And you think that he could be that friend?"

"Potentially," Gaspard nods.

"Well, since my opinion apparently doesn't matter in this situation then I'm telling you now, if he does anything to upset Hannah or puts so much as a fingertip out of line," Samantha leans in towards him and whispers, "I will collect his head and wear his fangs on a fucking necklace and there won't be anything you can do to stop me."

Gaspard glances at her and smiles; he can't say that she's cute when she's angry but it's certainly endearing at times. As much as she can deny it, she always let's slip that she cares for Hannah more than she claims.

"Miss Samantha Hopkins?" a nurse calls out.

"Sit. Stay. Wait," Samantha tells Gaspard.

As he remains on his seat, he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. Samantha shouldn't be too long. She can pretend her injury is life-threatening all she wants but werewolves are hardy and heal much quicker than humans. As he runs his hand through his hair, he notices someone in the corner of his eye; a little girl. She looks at him with big, blue eyes filled with curiosity.

"Hi," he says, tilting his head to look at her.

She looks slightly afraid of him, her blonde hair seeming to turn a shade lighter. Gaspard knows why; it's the same reason everyone looks at him strangely.

"Are you a boxer?" she asks.

"No," Gaspard smiles and shakes his head.

"Then how did you get those scars?"

"I… um… I got attacked by a dog," he lies.

"Do they hurt?"

"Not anymore, they just look bad now."

"Well, I like them."

"Thank you."

"Marley, leave that man alone," a woman calls.

The little girl runs over to the woman and Gaspard smiles to himself. Thoughts on the conversations between him and Samantha drift into his head. They've spoken about having children before in passing but it has always been 'if we ever' or 'maybe one day'. He feels that he is mostly to blame for them never seriously talking about it; his photography pulls him away from home frequently, sometimes for weeks, and that wouldn't be fair on Samantha. He could stop but she would never let that happen. Eventually, they might find a way around it. He likes the thought of being a dad. Maybe one day.

"I'm all done!" Samantha chirps, skipping around the corner and showing Gaspard her freshly bandaged wrist, "He said to give it a couple of days and it should be all fine after that."

"I forget how fast you heal," Gaspard replies, "Still pissed off?"

"No, actually, I'm worried," she frowns.

"About…?"

"We haven't got Rosie anything for her birthday. And it's quite a significant birthday; this isn't an Argos job."

"To be honest, I was leaving that job to you. I have no idea what Rosie does or doesn't like; mostly because the list changes every week."

"You're still coming shopping with me," Samantha states.

"Why? Anything I pick out will be all wrong," Gaspard says.

"Because…" Samantha pouts and adopts a mournful tone of voice, "How will I ever carry any bags when my poor wrist is still hurting?"

Gaspard rolls his eyes and stands and follows Samantha out of the building. As they leave, the little girl smiles and waves at him.

XXXXXXXXXX

*Three days later*

Wrapping paper is strewn across the floor around the newly turned 18-year old and her haul of birthday presents sits on the coffee table in front of her. The whole pack is seated around her.

"I hope you like them," Imogen says.

"Oh, they're perfect!" Rosie replies.

She puts the pair of knee-high black boots with the rest of her presents; Chilean rose and money from Ian, money from Lance, Victoria and Nathan gave her two tickets for The Lion King musical in London plus the 'Darkest Powers' book trilogy and, as well as the boots, Imogen has given her a Lion King phone case. Rosie hadn't expected the pack members to turn up at the door bearing all manner of gifts, but she certainly isn't complaining. Among all of these things is also a red vintage-style dress covered with butterflies and a goldfish tank both from Gaspard and Samantha.

"Thank you, guys," Rosie beams.

Rosie grabs the last present; another from Samantha and Gaspard. Inside is a black, leather box; a jewellery box. Rosie gasps as she opens it.

"No way," she breathes, "This is…"

"Yep," Samantha answers before she can finish her sentence.

In the box lays a silver pendant, carved with the image of a wolf standing among trees and a full moon made of grey moonstone shining above it, on a silver chain. This is the necklace she saw one day, sitting on the dresser in Samantha and Gaspard's bedroom, shortly after she began living with them. Samantha had told Rosie that her parents had given it to her as an eighteenth birthday present.

"But this is yours," Rosie says.

"No, it was mine, but not anymore," Samantha replies.

Rosie takes the necklace out of its box and puts it on; admiring how the gemstone shines in the light.

"I am never going to take this off!" she cries, "Thank you so much!"

XXXXXXXXXX

At half past six on the dot, there's a knock on the front door.

"Do I look ok?" Hannah asks nervously.

"You look great," Rosie assures her, "Skinny jeans really suit you."

"Thank you for lending me your clothes."

"No problem. I couldn't exactly let you go out without having something fancier than a plain summer dress to wear. It's lucky we're about the same size."

Gaspard opens the door and greets Alec.

"Oh my, I think I'm going to be sick," Hannah frets, "I don't know if I can do this."

"You're such a wimp! You're a vampire so you can't even be sick!" Rosie laughs, "Just go. Have fun. Be yourself. He already fancies the pants off of you so you haven't really got much to worry about."

Hannah nods and approaches the door, peeking out from behind Gaspard. Alec looks extremely handsome, dressed in blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a black blazer. Rosie sneaks up and gives Hannah a shove forward and she stumbles into view. He smiles at her, his blue-green eyes catching hers before she looks down, feeling incredibly self-conscious. Sensing the awkwardness, Gaspard injects the silence.

"I want her home before dawn," he tells Alec.

"Of course," Alec nods, holding out his hand towards Hannah, "Are you ready to leave?"

"Um…," Hannah starts.

"You won't be in need of any money; I shall be covering everything. Your fair self is all that is required."

If vampires could blush, Hannah's face would be almost the same colour as her hair as she gives Alec her hand and shuffles out of the door.

"Have fun," he says, closing the door.

He turns around to find Samantha leaning against the wall behind him with her arms folded and looking very unimpressed.

"I still don't like this," she frowns.

"I know," Gaspard replies, "You've told me a millions times already. But, I promise you, I will make you forget all about it later."

"Yuck," Rosie says, pulling a disgusted face, "I'm going to go and get ready before I vomit."

XXXXXXXXXX

"It feels a bit silly, doesn't it?" Samantha says, absentmindedly flicking through channels on the television, "I mean, we've agreed to stay up here, in our room, all night unless going downstairs is absolutely necessary. It's self-imprisonment."

Rosie's birthday party was now in full swing downstairs; people chatting and laughing, loud music playing and plenty of drinks being poured.

"Are you saying it's a bad thing to be stuck up here with me all night?" Gaspard asks.

"No," Samantha smiles, "I'm just saying that it feels like we're naughty children who've been sent to bed early."

"Or," Gaspard begins, scooting up on the bed to be closer to her, "It could be that we're naughty teenagers who've snuck off to be alone."

He puts his arm around his girlfriend and pulls her closer to him.

"Ok, when you put it that way it sounds much better," she replies.

"You see?" he smirks, kissing her cheek and then whispering in her ear, "We can pretend."

"You mean I should pretend to be a bit of a slag and jump in bed with anyone who shows me some interest at a party?" Samantha laughs.

"You know what I meant," Gaspard sighs, leaning his head back on the wall.

She giggles, bringing her hand up to his chest and drawing invisible circles on his collar bone with her nail. He looks down at her, knowing she's getting a kick out of being a wind-up merchant; not this time. As quick as lightning, Gaspard puts his hand around the back of Samantha's head so she can't escape and crushes their lips together. At first she melts into the kiss, allowing him to have momentary control over her, until an idea pops into her head. She puts her hand on his face and pushes him away, breaking their contact.

"You know what? You're right," she smiles, "But if we're playing pretend then there's one key thing missing in this picture."

"Would it be that not enough of your clothes are off yet?" Gaspard suggests.

"No, no. We need wine!" she exclaims.

Gaspard sighs loudly as Samantha scrambles off of the bed and leaves the room. He could kick himself for not thinking to bring alcohol up to the bedroom earlier.

"Oh no," Rosie says, spotting Samantha making her way down the stairs in nothing put a pair of fabric shorts and a t-shirt.

One of her male friends, who she was in mid-conversation with, turns around to see what Rosie is staring at.

"Well, hello hot stuff! Who is that?" he smiles.

"That's my sister," she frowns.

Rosie has always referred to Samantha as her older sister; it saves a lot of explanation. Catching her eye, Samantha makes a gesture to Rosie, letting her know that she is only coming down for drinks. In response, she receives a manicured middle finger from the eighteen-year old.

"Your sister's fit!" her friend cries.

"And she's too old for you," Rosie replies.

"How old is she?"

"She's twenty-four."

"That's not too old. Excuse me for a moment, I'm going to go and work some of my magic."

He jogs into the kitchen before Rosie can say anything more to him. The boy finds Samantha having a look at what wine that people have brought with them. He casually walks up, leans an elbow on the kitchen island and loudly clears his throat to make his presence known before speaking.

"Hey."

"Hello," Samantha says, not bothering to look up at him.

"So… you're Rosie's sister, right?"

"That's right."

"I'm Sean. Are you joining the party? Because if you are, I should warn you, I'm a bit of a party animal," he smirks, giving her a wink.

"Sweetheart, I'm more of an animal than you'll ever be," Samantha replies, finally picking up a bottle that she likes the look of.

"Would you care to prove that?"

"Actually, no, I wouldn't. I promised Rosie that I wouldn't invade her shenanigans so I'm going back upstairs to get drunk. Bye!"

As Samantha goes to walk out of the kitchen, Sean moves in front of her a little. In her mind, she is cringing at the thought of what he might say to her.

"How about I come and keep you company?"

Samantha laughs, "Thanks for the offer, but I have my dog to keep me company."

"That's ok; I like dogs."

"Yeah, well, this one likes to have me to himself. He's not fond of me having strangers in the bedroom, especially not little boys. I wouldn't want you to end up getting bitten or anything. But it's good that you like dogs; there are plenty of them out there."

Samantha points to the living room. Sean follows the direction of where she is pointing and sees a group of girls in short skirts and faces covered in so much makeup and fake tan that they look like they belong in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.

"You're funny," he laughs.

"I know."

"I like that in a girl."

"That's nice. Now, if you'll excuse me, this wine isn't going to drink itself."

Samantha sidesteps Sean and sashays out of the kitchen, carrying the bottle and two glasses back up the stairs with her.

"Pft, I'm just too much for her to handle," Sean mumbles as he re-joins the party.

Back in the bedroom, Samantha pushes the door shut with her foot.

"You took your time," Gaspard says, "I was starting to worry you'd left me for a college boy."

"Well, one almost seduced me. I mean, with his messy hair and gangly body, it was hard to resist but I used all of my willpower and decided to come back to you," Samantha winks.

"Oh no; that's major competition," Gaspard laughs.

"In all seriousness, one of them did actually try and chat me up," Samantha replies, "It was painful to listen to and I was embarrassed for him."

"As bad as I was?"

"No, he actually made what he wanted very obvious instead of starting a sentence and then chickening out. What was it? Three or maybe even four attempts before you untied your tongue?"

Gaspard raises an eyebrow at her as she pours a generous amount of red wine into each glass and hands him one.

"Mine wasn't all bullshit with only the intention of getting some action though," he states, taking a sip from his glass.

"You probably would have been even worse at that," she teases.

Gaspard gasps dramatically and pretends to look offended.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I could have easily used that French charm that was passed down to me," he smirks as he puts his glass on the bedside table, taking Samantha's hand in his own and adopts a ridiculously over the top French accent, "Oh Mademoiselle, you are as sweet as a croissant!"

Samantha giggles as he starts kissing her hand and moves up her arm.

"Have I ever told you how weird you are?" Samantha asks.

"Maybe a few times," Gaspard replies, ceasing to mess around as he reaches her shoulder and kissing more gently.

Samantha sighs blissfully as his lips find her neck, pressing softly with tender kisses. Her breath catches when he lightly scrapes his teeth across the smooth skin and his hand brushes across her chest and caresses the other side of her neck, allowing her to tilt her head sideways, giving him more space to work on. His warm breath sends chills up and down her spine and she exhales audibly as his hand moves back over her chest and down her arm, taking a hold of the wine glass she still clasps onto.

"No, wait," she says, pulling the glass away from him and downing the contents in one go.

"Why? Just, why?" Gaspard asks.

"I didn't want to waste it so why not?" she answers, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and putting the glass on the floor.

"Fair en…"

Gaspard is unable to finish what he's saying before Samantha throws her arms around his neck and kisses him. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth slightly and runs his tongue along her bottom lip. She responds by pushing her own tongue against his and digging her nails into his back as though clinging on for dear life. They only break away from each other in order to breathe, panting a little from the heat beginning to generate between them. Gaspard puts his hand on Samantha's knee and moves it up along her thigh, over her hips, waist and the side of her breast, finally ending up on her shoulder where he suddenly pushes her back onto the duvet. She cries out with laughter when he jumps on top of her, his knees landing either side of her legs and his arms either side of her shoulders. His lust-filled eyes glow brilliant gold as he looks down at her and he stops for a moment to take in the sight of her laying there.

"What's wrong?" Samantha asks, worrying about his sudden cease in movement.

"Nothing is wrong," Gaspard smiles, "In fact, everything is far from wrong."

"Then what is it?" she smiles back, lifting her hands up to slowly start unbuttoning his shirt.

"I just…"

Once again, Gaspard's sentence is interrupted. But this time it's not by kisses, but by the bedroom door abruptly swinging open. Two members of Rosie's party; a tall, lean boy with blondish-brown hair and a girl with dark brown hair that's been straightened to death and eyes framed with big, fake eyelashes.

"Oops! Sorry! We didn't know this room was already taken!" The girl giggles, hanging off of the boy's neck.

The colour in the boy's face becomes paler when Samantha looks at him and he hastily pulls her away and shuts the door.

"Now I really feel like a naughty teenager," Gaspard laughs, looking back down at Samantha who is still fixated on the door, "Sam?"

"Uh oh," Samantha says.

"Why are you saying uh oh?"

"Gaspard, didn't you recognise him?"

Gaspard frowns, trying to think where he might have seen the boy before. Then it hits him.

"Oh shit! Was that?"

"I think it was."

Samantha wriggles out from underneath her boyfriend, who follows her as she runs out into the hallway just as she hears the bathroom door closing. She growls angrily and storms over, flinging the door open and finding Chris, Rosie's boyfriend, with his hands down the back of the mystery girl's miniskirt, her top already removed. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights as he turns to see Samantha and Gaspard standing behind him.

"Hello, Christopher, nice to see you again," Gaspard says sarcastically.

"Does Rosie know that you're up here having your way another girl?" Samantha snarls, glaring at him and trying to resist the temptation of ripping his throat out.

"I… I… um," Chris stutters.

"I think I should leave," the girl whimpers.

"I think so too," Samantha says, not breaking her eye contact with Chris.

The girl picks up her top from the bathroom floor and rushes out past the two werewolves.

"Come on, Chris, we'll escort you out. Special treatment, just for you," Gaspard says, sidestepping Samantha and grabbing a hold of Chris' shirt collar.

"Yeah, Rosie's sister is totally into me but she said she would rather meet up some other time when there's less people around to distract us," Sean gloats.

"Nice one man! But why didn't she just take you upstairs and lock the door? No one would disturb you then," one of his friends says.

"Well, you know how it is; let the lady choose when and where. Besides, she said she's looking after her dog upstairs and he isn't too friendly."

At this moment, his friend looks over Sean's shoulders and sees Samantha walking down the stairs with Gaspard, who is dragging Chris along with him.

"Err, are you sure she said dog?" his friend asks.

"Of course she did," Sean replies, "Why?"

"Well, I think she might have meant bodyguard."

Sean's friend points to Gaspard just as he reaches the bottom of the staircase.

"Ha-ha! Yeah mate, she's well into you!" another boy jeers as the others snigger.

The people who are dotted around stop talking and turn to look at the threesome. Rosie is among them and walks over, looking appalled.

"What do you think you're doing?" she exclaims.

"We're kicking him out," Samantha explains.

"What? Why?"

"Do you want to tell her or shall I?"

Samantha and Rosie both turn to look at Chris.

"Chris, what is she talking about?"

"Rosie, I… It was just… I didn't mean to…," Chris stumbles over his own words.

"Didn't mean to what?" Rosie asks, feeling an overwhelming panic of what the answer might be.

"He didn't mean to get caught with his hands down the knickers of another girl," Samantha replies to the question for him.

Rosie is speechless, staring at Chris as he hangs his head in shame. A few of the people who overhear the conversation clap their hands over their mouths in shock; even the other boys look horrified.

"Rosie, I'm sorry," Chris utters.

"Get out," Rosie whispers, tears welling up in her eyes, "Get him out of here."

"You heard the girl, let's go, dick-brain," Samantha says.

Gaspard opens the front door and shoves Chris out onto the veranda and before he shuts it in his face, Samantha leans out and shouts at him.

"If I ever and I mean this, if I ever see you here again, I will cut your fucking nuts off! Do you hear me?"

She slams the door shut and sighs loudly. Most of the onlookers have gone back to their previous conversations but a few are still staring at them; Rosie is nowhere to be seen.

"I don't know about you, but I need a drink," Gaspard says.

"Yeah," Samantha nods.

In the kitchen, Gaspard retrieves a beer from the fridge whilst Samantha opens another bottle of wine before removing themselves from the house and go out into the back garden. Claiming a lounging chair for himself, Gaspard leans back and reaches into his pocket producing a packet of cigarettes and lighting one. Samantha settles herself on his lap and they stay outside until most of the part guests have left the house with the exception of a few of Rosie's close friend who are staying over; a gay couple, Joseph and Lawrence, and a dark-skinned girl who could be Beyoncé's younger self called Felicia. By this point, the abundance of wine in Samantha's bloodstream has taken effect and she is lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

"I know this sounds really cheesy but Chris seriously doesn't know what he's lost," Felicia says to Rosie.

"He'll eventually realise but, by that point, you'll be so over him and all the other boys will be kissing the ground you walk on. Your complexion is far too good to go unnoticed and you are the goddess of green eyes," Joseph beams.

"Thanks guys," Rosie smiles weakly.

"Trust me, babes, if I was straight then I would be all over you like Robyn Herveaux is all over the magazines," Lawrence says.

Felicia puts her arm around Rosie's shoulders and looks over at Samantha, "Slightly off subject but is your sister ok?"

"Yeah, she's fine," Rosie replies, "She's been drinking and she doesn't do that very often. It's probably just gone to her head."

Gaspard reappears from upstairs, carrying sleeping bags, and pillows. He bypasses his girlfriend and dumps the luggage on the floor.

"Rosie, I'm really sorry about what happened."

"Gaspard, it's alright. I'd have rather you did that to him than tell me afterwards. He deserved to have his true colours shown to everyone."

"No decent girls are going to touch him with a bargepole now either," Joseph adds.

"Ok," Gaspard says, "Well, feel free to be angry at us anyway. I won't be giving the 'I told you so' speech and I'll make sure than Sam doesn't either. Though, by the looks of it, she won't even remember what happened by tomorrow morning."

"Please don't leave her down here," Rosie grimaces.

"Don't worry, I have other plans," Gaspard smirks.

He walks over to where Samantha is sprawled out on the floor, humming to herself, and crouches down next to her. She stops and looks at him.

"HI!"

"Hello mon chéri, time to get up."

"No!"

"Why?"

"Because… I can't."

"You can't what?"

"Get up. I can't do it. My legs; they've fallen off. You're going to have to carry me!"

Samantha reaches her arms up towards Gaspard and he rolls his eyes at her. It has been a long time since she last got this drunk and she had tried to pull a similar stunt; claiming that gravity had taken over the entirety of her body.

"For fucks sake," he groans, grabbing her by the wrists and pulling her up with him, "Fine. Jump on my back."

"ONWARDS MY NOBLE STEED!" she cries, leaping onto his back and kicking him in the side with her heel.

Felicia, Joseph and Lawrence start laughing whilst Rosie covers her face in embarrassment.

"I will just drop you," Gaspard frowns.

"Oh, don't be so miserable, bitch," Samantha giggles.

"I think you'll find that you're the bitch."

"Ha-ha! I know! Ok, I'll stop kicking you."

"Goodnight everyone," Gaspard says to the others.

"Goodnight!" The others say in unison.

They all wait until the couple have disappeared into their bedroom before they begin speaking again.

"Holy crap," Joseph gasps.

"I agree," Lawrence nods.

"Me too," Felicia says.

"What are we all agreeing on?" Rosie questions.

"Your brother-in-law, or whatever he is to you, is steaming hot!" Joseph exclaims.

"Um, I can't really agree with you because that would just be weird," Rosie responds, "But I'm surprised you're saying that. Most people avoid even looking at his face when they're speaking him because of the scars."

"Oh no, that just adds to the image. It makes him… unique," Felicia explains, "Your sister is a lucky woman."

"I would say he's a pretty lucky man too," Lawrence adds, "She seems like a bit of a hellion."

Samantha releases her grip on Gaspard's neck when they get to the bedroom and lands less than gracefully on her feet. She holds onto his waist to steady herself. He smiles and turns around to face her, stroking the back of her head with one hand and using the other to move fly-away hairs out of her face. She looks up at him, resting her chin on his chest and staring into his blue eyes. He bends down to kiss her but she evades him, ducking out of his range, and throws herself on the bed.

"Come to bed," she demands, patting the space next to her.

Gaspard rolls his eyes as he shuts the door. He undoes his belt, takes off his jeans and leaves them on the floor. Samantha watches him climb onto the duvet and settle down beside her, propping his head up with his hand. He studies her dreamy expression.

"You've had far too much wine," he says.

"Hush," Samantha scolds him, putting her finger to his lips, "You didn't stop me so, if you think about it it's your fault."

"Are we really playing the blame game, little Miss Lightweight? You shouldn't play games with me when I'm in this mood," Gaspard warns her.

"Why?" Samantha asks before leaning over and whispering in his ear, "I'm not afraid of the big bad wolf."

Gaspard smirks and slides his free hand round to the back of her head. His thumb brushes over her cheekbone lightly as he gradually pulls her closer, captures her lips and kisses her, almost gingerly at first, but then more passionately. He shifts his position, laying back in order to free his other hand which he moves around to the back of her neck, running his fingers up through her soft hair. Her hands are pressed against his bare chest, still exposed from her earlier attempt to undress him and she slowly moves them up to his shoulders and drags her nails across his skin. A low growl emits from the back of his throat as he pulls away from the kiss, gritting his teeth, half in pain and half in pleasure. As he moves in to kiss her again, she suddenly puts her hands on either side of his face, sticks out her tongue and licks his cheek, ruining the moment completely. Gaspard sighs and rolls fully onto his back whilst Samantha giggles into a pillow. He should have known.

"You're horrible," he groans.

She grins at him as he sits up and shuffles back so that he is leaning against the headboard. He starts to think that she may just spend the entire night winding him up. She had done this once before; messed around and teased him for ages and then leaving him with nothing but the option of having a freezing cold shower after she practically passed out. Suddenly, Samantha jumps onto his lap, coming terrifyingly close to kneeing him between the legs.

"Got you," she beams.

"Yeah, tell me about it," he breathes, "You nearly destroyed me."

With no warning, she grabs his open shirt collar and crushes their mouths together again. This time, she knows she means business, though Gaspard is still unsure of whether he's falling into another trap. But he can't help but follow her lead.

"You're crazier than usual when you're drunk," he mumbles between kisses.

"Less talk; more kissing."

She tugs at his shirt, indicating that she wants it removed and, happily, without breaking the contact between their lips and tongues, he complies with her request, throwing it aside and not caring where it lands. He places his hands on her knees and runs them up the warm, soft skin of her thighs, across her hips and up the back of her shirt. The feeling of his rough palms moving up her back causes a stifled moan to escape through her lips and she pushes herself against him, burying her fingers in his mane of dark brown hair. He doesn't even have to request the removal of her clothing because she sits up straight and lifts her arms, allowing him to pull her t-shirt up, turning her hair into a wild mess as it goes over her head. Samantha laughs and tips her head back, sending her slightly off balance so that she nearly tips off of Gaspard's lap and he has to grab her arms to pull her back towards him.

"Oops," she giggles.

Gaspard smiles and moves her hair back out of her face, finding her dark, seductive eyes fixated on him. Samantha leans forward and presses her forehead against his, letting their noses touch, and takes a deep breath; the comforting scent of his skin immerses her olfactory nerves. He embraces her securely and moves his head to nuzzle into the crook of her neck, touching his lips onto the delicate flesh, making her sigh and bite her lip and his stubble grazes her shoulder. He starts working his way down, kissing his way to her exposed collar bone and bare chest. When he reaches the location above her cleavage, she grips his hair and wrenches his head up to look at her. He inhales sharply at the sudden but unsubstantial pain and looks at her; his eyes, like hers, are luminous with passion.

"I've been waiting to get a hold of you like this all night," Gaspard breathes.

"Is it worth the wait?" Samantha asks.

"Yes," he utters, not being able to nod from the pressure of her firm grasp.

"I don't know why I asked that," she says, "I knew the answer wasn't going to be no."

"True; but it's nice to be reminded."

"But my memory is fine!"

"Sam, I love you, but shut up."

"But… I want to tell you that I love you too."

"Ok then."

"I love you, so much… and… I want to be on the bottom this time."

"No problem," Gaspard growls.

He wraps his arms around her tighter and she squeals as, in one swift movement, he flips them over. But little do they know that they've been spied on.

"Sorry to say this, Rosie," Joseph says as he reaches the bottom of the staircase, "But your sister has got a cracking pair of tits."

"Do I even want to know how you've come to this conclusion?" Rosie frowns.

"Well," Lawrence starts following his boyfriend, "I was waiting for Joseph to come out of the toilet and just happened to hear… movement… coming from the next room so I thought I would see what was happening…"

"And you've managed to traumatize yourself?" Rosie asks.

"Um… let me think. No!" Joseph exclaims, "I mean, like, seriously, the man might be six foot two and build like a brick shit house but she still has him wrapped around her little finger like a piece of thread!"

"I really don't need to know this," Rosie groans, covering her ears.

"Come on boys, leave her alone," Felicia tells them, "I want to get some sleep before I pass out."

The four teenagers settle down on the sofas to get some sleep. Joseph, Lawrence and Felicia fall into unconsciousness quite quickly, but, curled up alone on the armchair, Rosie lies awake; a few stray tears escaping her eyes.


	15. Chapter 15

Samantha is woken up by a ray of sunlight leaking into the bedroom through the curtains. She groans as it sears her eyelids, making her shut her eyes tighter. She feels the beginning of a headache at the back of her skull and pulls the duvet over her head.

"Gaspard, can you close the curtains properly?" she mumbles.

There's no answer.

"Gaspard, please can you close them?"

Again, there's no answer.

"GASPARD!" she shouts.

Sitting upright and looking at the space next to her, she finds that the place where her boyfriend should be is just an empty space. Has she woken up later than she thought? Did he have a last minute work call from the photography studio? Did he have a pre-booked work call that he didn't mention? Or has she just forgotten?

"What are you yelling for?"

She turns around to see Gaspard standing in the doorway of the bedroom holding two mugs of coffee.

"Oh, sorry," Samantha says, rubbing her temples as her headache spreads.

"Thought you could do with this," Gaspard says as he sets her coffee down on the bedside table.

"Thank you."

"How're you feeling?" he asks.

"Like I've been hit round the head with a brick," she complains, "How's Rosie?"

"I don't really know," Gaspard admits, "After her friends left earlier this morning she went straight to bed."

Samantha sighs, "Do you think she hates us?"

He moves around to his side of the bed and sits down.

"Why would she hate us?"

"We pretty much ruined her birthday party."

"No we didn't; Chris did. If he hadn't had done what he did in our bathroom then none of it would have happened."

"I suppose. We could have been a bit more subtle about it though; taken them to one side."

"True, but, I think making an example of him wasn't a terrible thing to do. Even Rosie agrees that he deserved it."

"She did?"

"Yes," Gaspard reassures her, taking her hand, "Relax, we did the right thing. Stop worrying otherwise you're only going to make your headache worse."

Outside the bedroom, Rosie has her ear pressed against the door, listening in on the conversation between the two werewolves.

"Sorry," Samantha sighs, "I just wanted to make sure that she doesn't ever even consider cheating as a forgivable thing. If I was let her think that now, at this age, then later on in life she could get seriously hurt and that's the last thing I want to see happen to her. It's not just on paper that she's family; she really is my little sister and if anything were to occur, whether it's now or in ten years' time, and I know that there's something that I could have shown her or said to her that might have prevented it then I would never forgive myself."

"I don't want to see her get hurt either but we can't protect her from every little thing," Gaspard states, "If we were to warn her about everything in life that could go wrong then all we'll achieve is making her paranoid. She needs to learn some things for herself; those tend to be the lessons that stick. We just have to be there for her during the aftermath."

"You're good at being there for the aftermath. I just get angry and that's not really any use to anyone."

"It is handy sometimes. I wouldn't say it's no use but it's not the answer to everything. I also wouldn't say that the way you react to things that upset you is entirely your fault either though."

Rosie smiles to herself and moves away from the door. Gaspard is right; she isn't angry at them and she certainly doesn't hate them. A part of her wishes that they really would reveal all the things in life that she needs to watch out for but she will just have to rely on her instincts, and steer clear of boys for a while. She goes downstairs and starts to clear up the mess from her party.

"Doesn't it ever get too much; dealing with the way I am?" Samantha asks.

"Sam, there are times when you drive me up the wall, but it's never too much," Gaspard says, "Do you know why?"

"Because you're insane?" she answers.

"Other than that," Gaspard smiles, "The reason it's never going to be too much is because I know that behind the anger is not always anger; it's a cover-up for fear, or sometimes even sadness, and I tend to be able to tell the difference."

"Yes, I know. You've proven that on many occasions."

"You can deny it all you want but you can't stand the thought of yourself submitting to the normal actions of feeling those emotions; you manage to stop yourself from crying and somehow turn a scream of terror into a war cry. But what you can't deny is that I will see through it. Your eyes, your body language and even the way you breathe betray you to me."

"I do try to stop and think before I get angry, find another way to express myself, but it's so difficult," Samantha replies, "I just freeze up and my mind goes blank and all I can think of is how unhelpful those things have been to me in the past and then I get angry at that. It's a ridiculously vicious cycle and I can't seem to stop unless you're there with me, telling me what I should do. I feel like such a burden sometimes."

Gaspard always feels a pang in his chest whenever Samantha mentions thinking that she's a burden to him. After almost four years, she still doubts that she's enough for him and part of him becomes annoyed because, in turn, it makes him feel as though he isn't showing enough affection for her; why else would she feel like that? But then he remembers the night she spent telling him what had happened for her to have ended up in his territory four and a half years ago; lost and alone, starving, dehydrated and afraid.

"You're not a burden," Gaspard frowns, "I want and need you just as much."

"Remind me why," Samantha requests, half needing to be reassured and half fishing for compliments.

"Everything," he says, "Companionship, love, colour coordinating my clothes…"

"Arguments," she adds.

"They don't happen that often and I prefer to call them 'challenges'. But, the main thing is life; I don't think I can live without you. In fact, I know I can't."

"It's probably a good thing I stayed then, isn't it?"

"If you hadn't then I'm sure I would still be on my own, convinced that I don't need any sort of permanent relationship to make me happy and then wondering why my bed felt so empty no matter who was in it."

Samantha giggles, recalling the time when Gaspard had made a quick exit during one of Lance's reminiscent stories of their lad's nights out. Previous to meeting her, he had been fairly promiscuous to say the least. She had only been part of the pack for little over five months and, unknown to her at the time; he had developed intense romantic feelings towards her and was completely ashamed of himself, as well as distressed over what she would think of him, after his best friend hinted at how many women he might have been with and how many of them he'd never called afterwards; almost all of them unless they'd wanted to hook up again.

"Man whore," she teases.

"Ex man whore," he corrects her, "And you need to bare that in mind because whenever you feel like a burden or not good enough or whatever; you can dig into the past and remember that you're the one that flipped everything upside down, in the best way possible."

"You're right," Samantha nods, "I'm sorry; I shouldn't make you feel like I've forgotten all about that."

"You're very apologetic today; you need to get a headache more often," Gaspard smirks.

"Don't push it. I'm going to take something for this before my skulls cracks open."

XXXXXXXXXX

As soon as the sun goes down and Hannah emerges from her daytime slumber, it's difficult to miss how excited she is to tell them everything about her date with Alec.

"Oh, Sam, it was amazing!" she cries, "Thank you so much for letting me go!"

"It wasn't me" Samantha frowns and points to Gaspard, "It was him."

Hannah runs over at vampire speed and throws her arms around Gaspard with such force that it almost knocks the air out of his lungs, "Thank you!"

"That's ok," he wheezes.

"Oops, sorry," Hannah cringes, "Still don't know my own strength."

"So how did it go?" Samantha asks.

"I think I made a wonderful idiot out of myself a couple of times but, other than that, it was so much fun!"

"There's no escaping the fact that you're a wonderful idiot. We're all ears; spill," Samantha requests, sitting herself on the sofa.

"Ok!" Hannah exclaims before looking around, "Where's Rosie?"

"She went out for a run. Let's just say there was a… situation last night and she wants some time to herself," Gaspard explains.

"Oh, is she ok?"

"She'll be fine," he nods.

"Alright, um, what was I saying?"

"The date," Samantha reminds her, "You were going to tell us what happened."

"Oh yes! Well…"

"_My apologies for not having any means of transportation other than our feet," Alec says, "But I thought that perhaps a walk might ease the initial awkwardness of our first official meeting."_

"_I hope so," Hannah frets, "I'm really sorry. It's just that I've never been on a date before."_

"_A beautiful young lady such as yourself; never has been taken, or even asked, out on a date?"_

"_No," Hannah shakes her head._

"_Absurd," Alec scoffs, "Modern men are so blind; whether vampire or human, they cannot tell pebble from gemstone."_

"_I'm guessing that's not really a good thing," Hannah replies._

"_Of course it isn't. But it does have its advantages. From what some cannot see, others will benefit. Because so many have failed to see your allure, I'm able to have a chance at entertaining you for a night," he smiles._

"_Oh," she utters, baffled by the amount of flattery being aimed at her._

_They continue their small talk all the way to town, asking each other standard 'get to know you' questions; favourite colours, music, films, books, 'flavour' of Tru Blood, what their lives were like before they were turned, their ages; both human and vampire._

"He was a Professor of literature when he was human," Hannah beams.

"That explains his la-di-da way of speaking," Samantha scoffs.

"Sam, be nice," Gaspard warns, "Carry on."

"_Here we are," Alec announces._

_Hannah looks up at the sign above the large building, "Ice-skating?"_

"_Yes. Is that a problem?" Alec asks, looking worried._

"_No! No, it's not," Hannah says, "I've just never been ice-skating before. My parents never let me because they thought I would fall over and crack my head. But, I suppose I could heal it now if that happened."_

_Alec smiles and holds the door opens for her, "Don't worry, you can hold my hand so you don't fall over, if you like."_

"Oh, how chivalrous," Samantha interrupts, "Holding the door open for you and everything!"

"Sam!" Gaspard scowls.

"Sorry," she sighs, "Hannah, please continue."

"_Crap, I'm going to slip over before I've even got both of my feet on here!" Hannah cries as she grips onto the edge of the ice rink._

"_Would you like some help?" Alec offers her his hand, trying to stifle a laugh so as not to be rude._

_Hannah looks at him, standing steadily and effortlessly on the slippery surface beneath his feet._

"_Um, no, I think I'll be… AH!"_

_As soon as she lets go of the side, her clumsy feet slide out from underneath her body and she is brought crashing down onto the hard, frozen water. Alec can't help but laugh at Hannah's misfortune._

"_Are you ok?" he asks, trying to recompose._

"_Yes, I really enjoy making an arse out of myself," Hannah frowns, noticing how much she sounded like Samantha; obviously the sarcasm has rubbed off on her._

"_I'm sorry," Alec atones, holding his hand out again._

_This time, Hannah accepts his offer of help and he pulls her back onto her feet. She wobbles on the ice and grabs at his sleeve with her free hand, scared of falling again._

"_I feel like Bambi!" she exclaims._

_Alec smiles and tries to explain to her how she should stand so she can keep her balance and starts to show her how to carefully move forward. After many failed attempts and what would have been a bruised backside, Hannah is able to precariously move over the ice with Alec holding both of her hands to keep her steady._

"_You see? I told you, once you have some momentum, it gets better," he beams._

"_Just don't let go!" Hannah cries._

"_I won't, I promise."_

"So you spent the entire night at the ice rink?" Gaspard asks.

"No," Hannah shakes her head, "Only an hour or so. He found us a vampire-friendly café afterwards."

"Oh, did you?" Samantha expresses a sudden interest.

"Tru Blood only," Hannah frowns, knowing that Samantha was hoping for a reason to forbid her seeing him again.

Samantha holds her hands up in surrender when Gaspard glares at her, "That was a completely innocent inquiry. Plus I'm on edge after last night."

He rolls his eyes, "We're glad you had a good time. Aren't we Sam?"

"Very," Samantha smiles, "Providing it stays innocent."

"Does that mean you'll let me see him again?" Hannah gasps.

"I… I, um…," Samantha stutters, "Look, I never said that… and even if I did, it wouldn't be for definite anyway!"

XXXXXXXXXX

The tabby and white cat reaches what she knows to be the boundary between Gaspard's territory and neutral ground and opts to stay on the safer side, just out of sight of the country road. Shifting into human form, Rosie takes a seat on a fallen log and sighs. She feels mean; not staying behind to hear Hannah talk about her date. She's sure that the young vampire would have liked nothing more than to natter with someone her own age about her first romantic experience. But the overpowering feeling of idiocy has pulled her away from the house to be alone. To torture her mind by going over what happened the night before. What was missing from her so badly that he felt the need to go off with someone else? It must have been something to do with sex, or more likely, the lack of it. She'd not done anything of a sexual nature with him and if that is the reason, as well as a cheat, he's also a liar. All of the times he had said to her that she didn't need to worry about not being ready, or wanting to wait, because that wasn't what he was after; lies. And she had fallen for it. She had been blinded by infatuation.

"You're so fucking stupid, Rosie," she says to herself as tears begin to spill from her eyes and roll down her cheeks.

For over two years, she has watched Samantha and Gaspard's relationship as it grew and changed. They argue and have plenty of fights yet always find their way back to being peaceful and loving again so quickly it's as if nothing has happened. The only times Gaspard is left to sleep on the sofa are when he falls asleep watching TV or reading, never because of a tiff. Not a single incident of being or even attempting to be unfaithful. For Samantha, Gaspard is the only man she has ever been with. It was almost a fairy tale; him finding her at her weakest moment and rescuing her and doing everything he could to win her over. By no means are they perfect but what they have is still desirable. Rosie stands up and kicks the log with her heel.

"FUCK YOU!" she shouts in anger, trying to imagine Chris' head instead of a tree.

She sniffs and wipes the tears from her face. If only she could have turned into a lion and torn him apart. It would have been interesting to see people's reactions. Even her closest friends don't know about her supernatural abilities. It's not that she isn't allowed to tell anyone, but she's too scared in case it changes the way someone thinks of her, or if they turn out not to be trustworthy and tell other people. As fun as it is to be able to turn into an owl or a dog at will, being a shifter has it's lonely moments.

"Maybe I should have just been a werewolf," she sighs.

She hears the sound of twigs breaking not too far from where she is standing. Rosie looks around and sees no one.

"Hello?" she calls, wondering if it's one of the pack members.

Hearing another crack, she freezes on the spot. Her eyes dart around, looking for the source of the noise. Then she sees something moving between the trees. It's definitely not human. As it moves towards her she can see that it's some sort of dog; tall enough to be a wolf but too stocky. It sniffs the ground as it moves along, as though it's tracking something, or someone. The dog reaches the edge of the clearing where Rosie is standing and stops, lifting its broad head to look at her. She was right, it isn't a wolf. A large, black Rottweiler with tan colouring around it's muzzle and legs, no collar and no owner in sight.

"Sit," she utters, worrying that it might try and chase her

To her horror, the dog neither sits nor chases, but instead suddenly turns into young man. Rosie gasps and backs away, begging her legs to start running.

"Wait, don't run!" he says.

"You… you're a…" Rosie stumbles over her own words.

"A shifter," he replies.


	16. Chapter 16

"Who are you?" Rosie asks.

"I'm Tyson," the boy replies.

"Were you following me?"

"Yes and no. I caught the scent of another shifter but I didn't know who it was that I was following. Did I scare you?"

"Scare me? You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!"

"I'm sorry."

"And so you should be! Do yourself a favour and choose to introduce yourself as a rabbit or a duck; not a great, big dog unless you're going to wear a nice little sign around your neck that says 'don't worry, I'm not going to eat you'."

Rosie is still standing several metres away from the mysterious boy. She's never met another shifter before. Tyson is tall and slender with light skin and messy brown hair. His dark eyes are filled with curiosity about the pretty girl before of him.

"I'll try and remember that for next time. What's your name?" he asks.

"Rosie," she answers.

"Well, Rosie, it's nice to meet you."

Tyson smiles at Rosie. It's a nice, friendly smile that eases her anxiety and she finds the courage to sheepishly smile back.

"What are you doing out here all alone? It's probably not the safest thing to do; there are werewolves in this area," he says.

"I could say the same for you," she replies, "But I have no reason to be afraid of them. They're my friends."

"They're your friends?" Tyson exclaims, "How can you be friends with werewolves? They hate shifters!"

"The ones I know are different," Rosie says.

"I'll have to take your word for that. But, it still doesn't explain why you're out here on your own."

"I've not had the best twenty-four hours."

"Oh, ok. Um, I won't dig for information but how about we put some clothes on and talk? It might take your mind off of whatever's bothering you."

Rosie is so thrilled about finally meeting another shifter that she barely hesitates to take Tyson up on his offer. They find where each of them left their belongings, chatting all the while.

"Is that dog your go-to animal?" Rosie asks.

"No, mine's a cat," Tyson answers, "And yours?"

"Mine's a cat too!"

"No way, that's awesome!"

"Clearly we're cat people."

"Yeah," he laughs, "So, I'm guessing you're from the area. Do you live here with your parents?"

"No," she replies, "I live with my sister. Well, she's not my actual sister but she's still family."

"I get what you mean," Tyson affirms, "Do your parents live far from here?"

"Um, no," Rosie shakes her head, "I actually don't have parents."

"Oh, I see."

"I'm not throwing my problems at you for sympathy; I'm just being honest with you. What about you then? Have you been here long?"

"I just moved here with my parents. I'm planning on starting at the university in Writtle and they thought it would be easier if we lived a bit closer. I'm going to be taking the Foundation Animal Management course."

"I go to that college! I'm a couple of years behind most people my age but I'm planning on eventually going for the Foundation Animal Science course."

"Ha, we'll probably be bumping into each other quite a lot then," Tyson grins.

Rosie grins back at him. He looks up at the night sky and then checks his wristwatch.

"It's getting late; maybe I should walk you home, just to make sure that you're safe. That's only if you want me to."

"That would be great."

Tyson walks Rosie all the way up to the front door of the house.

"I'd really like to see you again, Rosie," he says, "And not just from bumping into each other in college."

"I'd like that too," she blushes.

Tyson reaches into his pocket and produces a mobile phone and hands it to her. Rosie types in her number and hands it back to him.

"I'll text you," he smiles.

"Ok," Rosie replies, "See you soon?"

"You can count on it," Tyson winks at her before making his way down the drive.

Rosie walks through the door and finds Gaspard stretched out across the sofa, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, reading a book. In the corner of her eye she sees Hannah kneeling on the floor by the window.

"You were spying on me, weren't you?"

"No!" Hannah scoffs, "Well, maybe. But Sam was too!"

"SAM!" Rosie yells.

"You told on me, you traitor!" Samantha shouts from the kitchen.

"Oops," Hannah cringes.

"I would just like to say that I had absolutely nothing to do with this," Gaspard declares.

"Who was that?" Samantha asks, appearing in the kitchen doorway.

"That was Tyson," Rosie sighs happily, "He's a shifter, like me."

"But I thought you said that there weren't any around here except you," Hannah says.

"There wasn't; until now. He moved here a little while ago. Oh, you lot, I've been waiting for someone like this for so long."

"Oh, great," Samantha groans.

"You've been waiting for a boy with hair that looks like a mop?" Hannah sniggers.

"No!" Rosie scowls.

"Um, excuse me, petite mademoiselle," Gaspard cuts in on the conversation, "Do you think it was a good idea to go running off with a random boy whom you know nothing about; shifter or not?"

"I wasn't 'running off' with him. I was talking to him and that's all," Rosie replies.

"You're old enough for me not to have to give you the stranger danger lecture that 5-year olds get," Gaspard frowns, "Just because he's another shifter doesn't mean straight off the bat that he's a good person. He could have done anything to you and you would have walked straight into it."

"But he didn't," Rosie argues.

"You cannot predict the future, Rosie, and the only reason you knew you would get home safe is when you got within sight of the house. Tell me I'm wrong," Gaspard retaliates.

Rosie is stunned. She hadn't expected this kind of reaction; especially not from Gaspard. She thought, out of all of them, he would be the happiest for her. Yet here he is, telling her off.

"What about you?" she asks, "You run into other werewolves all the time and some of them are strangers to you! How do you know you're not going to be attacked?"

"I am an Alpha," Gaspard snaps, standing up and towering over her, "I am fully capable of taking care of myself. I know how to fight off other wolves; powerful wolves and have done on many occasions."

"Gaspard, please," Samantha says, walking over to him and puts her hand on his shoulder, "Calm down. She made a mistake."

"She made a big fucking mistake," Gaspard growls.

He shrugs Samantha's hand away and moves past her to go upstairs.

"And I'm the angry one?" Samantha sighs.

"I'm sorry," Rosie whimpers, "I just…"

"I know, sweetheart," Samantha comforts Rosie, pulling her into an embrace, "He's been a bit stressed today because of work and I think his worry came out more aggressive than it should have done."

"Should I go up and apologise to him?" Rosie asks.

"No, I'll talk to him," she says, kissing Rosie on the forehead before making her way up the stairs.

"If it makes any difference, I'm happy for you," Hannah smiles softly, "I understand why Gaspard got angry and I know he wasn't very nice but I still think he's happy for you too."

"Thanks," Rosie replies, trying to smile back.

Hannah moves closer to Rosie, not quite knowing what to say or do. She decides to bring up her own recent experience in an attempt to relate and show some form of empathy.

"I think I know how you feel as well. It was nice talking to Alec last night; someone who knows what it's really like to be a vampire."

Rosie gets a warm and alleviating feeling from these words and without any warning she turns and flings her arms around Hannah's body and hugs her tightly. At this moment the shifter realises how much of a friend she might have in this young vampire.

XXXXXXXXXX

"He's here."

"Send him in."

A tall man walks into Elizabeth's living room to find the Marshall lounging on a red, plush sofa with a wine glass filled with carbonated blood. She'd called him to her house so that their meeting would be more private than the office at Crucifix.

"What's new?" she asks.

"I would perhaps give her another week or so," the man replies, his words pronounced correct and formal, "Now that she's acquired a taste of what it's like to be around other vampires, it should not be long before she starts to consider moving further out than the werewolf's territory to seek out kindred company. And now she has someone to teach her a few new tricks, I predict that there will be a great temptation to test them."

"Do you know if she's aware of any weaknesses other than what we already know?"

"I am unsure. I cannot stay that there has been any kind of conversation surrounding the subject that I have heard so far."

"Perhaps we need to test a few things. I've had George and Sarah researching all the old legends about werewolves and their possible vulnerabilities and they came across something quite interesting. So, I have a task for you. You must carry this out with caution and come to me immediately with your findings. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Elizabeth, I do."

"Good boy. Now, take this," Elizabeth orders, holding out a pot with a plant in it.

The man takes the pot in his hands and studies it. The plant has purple flowers budding out, all the way up the long, green stem.

"Excuse my naivety, but what is this?" the man queries.

"It's called wolf's bane," Elizabeth explains, "History tells us that the toxins in that plant were used to kill wolves a long time ago. Legend tells us that due to their close ancestors, it is an incredible weakness for werewolves too. I wish to test this theory and I want you to go to the house and plant it somewhere in the garden. Observe their reactions and report back to me."

"As you wish," the man bows slightly to his superior and leaves.

"SARAH!" Elizabeth bellows.

Her red-haired vampire granddaughter appears in the doorway.

"Yes?"

"Be a dear and get me another," Elizabeth requests, swirling the small amount of liquid left in the glass.

"Are you sure we can trust him?" Sarah asks, indicating towards the front door in which the man has just departed from.

"Yes, he's loyal," Elizabeth replies, "It's not his fault it took so long to get the information we needed. Those wolves rarely let their guard down and are surprisingly protective of Hannah. He's done well to get this close without detection."

"Fair enough," Sarah shrugs, "Do you think the plant will work?"

"I do hope so," Elizabeth sighs, "I'm afraid we're running out of other options."

"I'll keep looking," Sarah says.

As she is about to walk away, Elizabeth clears her throat loudly and waves her glass.

XXXXXXXXXX

Nine o'clock on a Monday morning is Samantha's least favourite time of day on her least favourite day of the week and today is especially unfavourable; delivery day.

"Don't you find it funny that whenever we get a delivery, Crystal magically doesn't feel well or suddenly has something really important come up at the last minute?"

"Sam, we all know she makes every effort to avoid delivery day and no amount of whining will change that," Ian says, picking up the last box of Kopparberg and passing it up to Samantha.

"I'm not whining!" Samantha exclaims as she takes the box.

"Ok then, complaining," Ian sighs, "Which is still a synonym of whining."

"Oh, please, you probably had to Google what the word synonym means," Samantha rolls her eyes.

"Watch it. You might be my superior when it comes to pack life but I'm still your boss and I am happy to make you stay an extra hour tonight," Ian smirks.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Samantha replies, climbing down the ladder, "I'm already working ridiculously long hours today thanks to a certain someone who's head hurts."

For most of the day, business is slow. A few people come and go for breakfast and brunch but the pub doesn't start to fill up until after six o'clock when people are starting to get off of work. By half past, Loup-Garou is buzzing and Samantha and Ian are working hard.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," a tall, robust man says to Samantha, "How long has it been since I last saw you? It's got to have been a good seven or eight weeks."

"It must be those hectic and busy lives we have, Jake," Samantha replies, "What can I get you?"

"A beer; anything will do," Jake answers, "I've been dealing with stupid blokes who can't handle their drink for weeks and I think it's my turn to get wankered."

"Ah, humans and their alcohol, they do like to test their limits," Samantha laughs as she pours Jake's drink and hands it over to him.

"Why, thank you."

"Don't thank me, just hand over your two pound fifty contribution to my wages, pretty please."

"No mate's rates?"

"Not on your life."

"I've missed the charm of the Loup-Garou bartenders. Where's the man then?"

"He should be driving back home right now. He left stupidly early for work this morning and said something about a job in Manchester for some new line of designer crap. The people are clearly too lazy to bring their fancy backsides down to London so he had to drive all the way up there. They're paying him a shitload for the photo shoot but stuff like this makes me wonder why we're bothering to pay for the studio when he travels to his clients most of the time and then edits everything at home."

"Freelancing is the answer."

"That's what I said and all I got was him saying 'yeah, maybe'."

"Sam!" Ian shouts across the bar, "I'm not paying you to banter with customers; I'm paying you to serve them!"

"Sir yes sir!" Samantha yells back at Ian, "Sorry my lovely, catch you later."

The two of them flit around behind the bar, making sure they are serving everyone quickly and efficiently. Ian is stopped in his tracks when an unknown blonde haired woman in a black pencil skirt and a blazer walks into the pub and takes a seat at the bar.

"Well, hello gorgeous," Ian says, "I'll get this one."

Samantha rolls her eyes as Ian swiftly moves over to where the woman is sitting. He has always had a weakness for blondes and seeing as this girl was exceptionally pretty, Samantha knows she will be banned from serving her all night.

"What can I get you, darlin'?" Ian asks over the bar.

"I'll have a cosmopolitan," the woman smiles.

"No problem," Ian winks at her and works his magic with the cocktail shaker.

Much to Samantha's disgust, Nicholas soon makes an appearance and sidles up next to the blonde woman. Ian frowns as Nicholas pays for another beer and a second cosmopolitan. Samantha is relieved when Nicholas leaves her side, using his 'I'll come back for you later' attitude to try and lure the girl to him. She looks positively infatuated as he walks away. Seizing her chance, Samantha casually moves over to the woman.

"You're new here," she says.

The girl turns around to face Samantha. She has big, sky blue eyes and a pale complexion. Her hair is highlighted different tones of blonde ranging from off-white to sandy.

"How did you know?" she asks.

"I've been working here for quite a while and I've never seen your face here before."

"Of course; how silly of me. You probably know every pack and free agent in the area."

"And then some."

"You might be able to give me some advice then," the woman says.

"Depends on the nature of the advice," Samantha replies.

"I'm looking for a pack," the woman smiles, "I've been a free agent for so long because I've been focusing on my career but I'm tired of constantly being among humans. Not that I have anything against them but I would like the company of people who I can be my whole self with."

"So you want me to tell you what pack I think you should join?" Samantha inquires, "I don't really know if I can do that."

"Oh, no, I just want to know a little about each pack, you know, so I can get an idea of what they're all like," the woman responds.

"Ok, that's something I can definitely help you with."

"Fantastic!" the woman exclaims, "How about we start with that pack."

The young woman points over to the London pack; Nicholas and his posse. Samantha mentally sighs and prepares to give her an answer that she probably won't want to hear.

"That pack…," Samantha starts, "…is the kind of pack that you shouldn't touch with a barge pole."

"Oh, ok," the woman looks confused, "Why's that?"

"Where do I begin? For a start, you'd have to become a stuck-up bitch to get along with any of the girls in that pack. They look down their nose at almost everyone. As for the boys in the group; they follow their Alpha like a bunch of lost puppies, doing everything he tells them and fighting over who has the most space on his arse to kiss."

"Who's their Alpha?"

"He's the man who bought you that drink; Nicholas."

"What's he like?" the woman asks, unable to hide her keen interest.

"He's a disrespectful, self-centred prick that wouldn't know how to be a real Alpha if someone handed him the manual."

The woman scowls at Samantha, making it obvious that this isn't the answer that she wanted.

"I don't mean to be rude, but are you sure he's really like that or are you stereotyping him because he has a job that pays well enough to buy him that expensive suit?"

So many people have accused others of being jealous of Nicholas that Samantha never takes it as an insult. In response to the comment, she smirks and leans in towards the girl.

"Sweetheart, did you save up some of the money you've earned in that well established career of yours to treat yourself to those genuine designer shoes?"

"Yes."

"Well, I respect you very much for working so hard for them. But you see, Nicholas' very expensive suit didn't cost him a penny. He didn't have to save up for it. And the reason behind that is he lives off of daddy's money. Nicholas has a very rich father who, like you, worked very hard to earn his living, but his son hasn't worked a single day in his life. He's a lazy arse that expects everyone else to do things for him."

"If he can afford to have other people do things for him then it's not all bad."

"But remember, it's not his money yet he still expects that treatment. Even so, you're obviously interested in him and I'm going to assume that you're not a gold-digger and wouldn't be in a relationship with someone because they're going to be left with a hefty inheritance, but, if you were he would be the last person you would want to go for."

"I wouldn't complain about having a partner who is bound for an incredible inheritance but I'm not a gold-digger."

"So you're the kind of girl who plans to settle down and have an unpretentious life with someone special who, in turn, makes you feel equally as special?"

"Of course I am; that's how it should always be."

"Here's where you're going wrong then. Nicholas is unable to commit to a woman for anything more than a sexual encounter or two. He has convinced many women that they aren't going to be just another one-night-stand but time and time again, he barely even looks at them afterwards unless they want a second round. If he hasn't slept with the girls that are in this pub right now, he will have tried it on with them; including me. I'm letting you know that no matter what he tells you or tries to make you believe, the truth is that he is a man-whore that'll fuck anything on four paws."

The woman looks appalled and nauseated. With perfect timing, Nicholas makes his way back over. Samantha swiftly moves away and takes an order from the man standing a few feet away. She waits to see what the woman will do.

"Hey," Nicholas says, propping his elbow on the bar.

"Hello, again," the woman smiles.

"My friends are just about to leave but it's a little bit too early for me to go home so I was wondering if you'd like to join me for another drink or two?" he beams.

"Oh wow, I would love to…," the woman flushes with exaggerated excitement, "But… I think I'll have to decline that offer. I've been warned about you."

"What?" Nicholas gasps, completely baffled at her response.

The woman promptly takes her purse out from her bag, hands Samantha a twenty pound note over the bar and thanks her before leaving the pub. Nicholas glares at Samantha. If looks could kill then she would be splattered all over the walls.

"What's wrong Nicholas?" Samantha smirks.

"What the fuck did you say to her?" he growls.

"I only answered her questions truthfully."

"And what exactly was that truthful answer?"

"Now, that would be telling."

Nicholas' face turns red with rage and his fists clench.

"You have made fun of me for the last time, you hear me, psycho bitch?" Nicholas snarls, "You are going to pay for this, I swear it!"

"Oh, boohoo," Samantha pouts, "Cry me a river, build a bridge and get the fuck over it, pretty boy. I'm sure you'll find someone else to throw yourself at tomorrow."

Samantha laughs as Nicholas storms off, ignoring his pack as he passes them and goes into the pub garden. Pulling out his mobile phone, he dials a number he knows he can call when in need of a favour.

"Hello? Perry?"

"Nicholas, how nice it is to hear from you. What do you want this time?"

"I need your help with something."

"Go ahead."

"That were-bitch is doing everything in her power to humiliate me and I've had enough of it. I need to send her a message to tell her to back off."

"Why don't you just tell her yourself?"

"She's insane; a real mutt. Her Alpha and the rest of the pack are no better and now she even has a filthy, dirty, disgusting little fanger in league with her. I need something that will shake her up but it must not be traced back to me."

"I see. I'll get in touch with a friend of mine, he'll sort this. After all, I can't have my little brother being picked on, can I?"


End file.
